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THE 


GIPSY’S 


Pf 1 


WARNING. 


BY 


MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY. 

AUTHOR OF “ALL FOR LOVE,” “THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST,” “WAS HE GUILTY,” 
“ WHY DID HE MARRY HER,” “ THE CANCELLED WILL,” “ MICHAEL RUDOLPH,” 

“ THE PLANTER’S DAUGHTER,” “ WHO SHALL BE VICTOR,” ETC., ETC. 


“ The Gipsy* s Warning ” is a story of Monmouth's Rebellion, but there is far more 
of Love than of War in it. A brief, yet graphic picture of the terrors of that awful 
period in English history is given, but they are only incidental to the main story, 
the interest of which centers in a single family. The old baronet, his unscrupulous 
eon, and the lovely girl, led wh ile yet a child into the union which proves the terror of 
her life, are vividly, and clearly portrayed. The revengeful Gipsy and her son , 
the wild-hearted Sylvie, all contribute to the working out of a terrible retribution to 
the heartless man who cares only for himself, and his own interests. It is a charming 
love story , full of action, with not a page in it one would be tempted to skip. 


* » » 

0 

PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 

30 6 CHESTNUT STREET. 



|W- 

yvM 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year-1873, by 
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY’S WORKS. 


Each work is complete in one large duodecimo volume. 

ALL FOR LOVE ; OR, THE OUTLAW’S BRIDE. 

THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 

THE CANCELLED WILL. 

WHO SHALL BE VICTOR? Sequel to “ The Cancelled Will .’ 9 
THE MYSTERIOUS GUEST. 

MICHAEL RUDOLPH. 

WHY DID HE MARRY HER? 

WAS HE GUILTY ? 

THE PLANTER’S DAUGHTER . 


Price of each, $1.75 in cloth ; or $1.50 in Paper Cover* 


Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or 
all of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, 
postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 


PREFACE. 


Not many years since, a concealed room was dis- 
covered by an architect employed to make some 
alterations in an old English mansion. In it 
were found rich furniture, jewels heaped up on 
the dressing table, and on the sumptuous bed lay 
two skeletons, both supposed to have perished by 
violence. 

That statement was the nucleus of the follow- 
ing story. 













CONTENTS. 



Chapter Page 

I. — A PROUD AND KTJINED OLD HOUSE 23 

II.— THE gipsy’s prophecies 32 

III. — MYSTERIES and jealousies 51 

IV. — THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON 64 

V.— A WINDFALL 77 

VI. — SIR HUGH AND VERNOR OPEN THEIR GAME.... 90 

VII.t— THE SECRET CHAMBER 97 

VIII. — THE TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER 113 

IX.— SIR HUGH’S PLOT THICKENS 126 

X. — THE GIPSY ATTENDS THE WEDDING 139 

xi.— vernor’s ambition 147 

XII. — NEW HOPES 160 

XIII. — THE INVASION 170 

XIV. — MONMOUTH’S RECEPTION AT TAUNTON 178 

XV. — THE FUGITIVE 186 

XVI.— THE SEARCH 197 

XVII.— THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED , 212 

XVIII.— A FOUL PLOT 227 

XIX.— THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH............... 237 

XX.— THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE 240 

( 21 ) 


CONTENTS 


22 

Chapter Page 

XXI.— THE PRISONERS 260 

XXII. — YERNOR RECEIVES A VISITOR 277 

XXIII. — THE TRIAL 284 

XXIV.— DAWN OF A NEW DAY 290 

XXV. — GERALD’S PROSPECTS BRIGHTEN 306 

XXVI.— UNEXPECTED NEWS 320 

XXVII.— THE SHIPWRECK 324 

XXVIII.— TIMELY SUCCOR 335 

XXIX.— THE WEDDING 348 

XXX.— THE FLIGHT 357 

XXXI. — MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY 367 

XXXII. — THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK ... 378 

XXXIII. — A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE 385 

XXXIV.— VERNOR DISMAYED 400 

XXXV.— THE ABDUCTION 415 

XXXVI.— IN THE SECRET CHAMBER 423 

XXXVII. — DELIVERANCE 432 

XXXVIII.— SYLVIE AND VERNOR FACE TO FACE 441 

XXXIX.— CONCLUSION 449 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER I. 

A PROUD AND RUINED OLD HOUSE. 

It was a stately mansion of the olden time, surrounded 
by trees coeval with its origin. The Priory had been built 
before the days of Henry VIII., and among other church 
property had been confiscated and bestowed upon one of the 
retainers of the court. 

Finding the original building inconvenient as a private 
residence, Sir Henry Methurn added a new wing to it in the 
Tudor style of architecture, and the apartments in the older 
portion of the building were suffered to fall into partial 
decay. 

The immense pile presented a rather incongruous appear- 
ance ; but the lapse of time had imparted an air of sombre 
grandeur to its dilapidated walls which accorded with the 
deep shadows cast by the unpruned trees, and the neglected 
park over which the underwood was permitted to spring in 
unchecked luxuriance. 

The evening sun penetrated through an open door into a 
wide hall paneled with oak, and decorated with faded ban- 
ners and ancient armor. A grand staircase wound upward 
from this, at the head of which was a large window filled 

( 23 ) 


24 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


with painted glass representing a scriptural scene, executed 
in a style of art unknown in England at that day. 

This window had once formed a portion of the decoration 
of the chapel, and by the command of the new lord of the 
domain it had been removed to the more modern portion of 
the building. 

Doors opened on either hand into the apartments used by 
the family; but these comprised but a small portion of the 
mansion, for the fortunes of the house of Methurn had fall- 
en into decay, and of the wide lands granted to Sir Henry 
his great-grandson retained but a moiety. This was partly 
due to the civil war under Charles I., in which the lord of 
the Priory had adhered to the royal cause, partly to the 
habits of extravagance in which the successive owners of 
the property indulged. 

The present proprietor, Sir Hugh Methurn, retained only 
the Priory and a few farms, which brought him in but a tithe 
of the income once enjoyed by his ancestors. 

A large chair, heavily carved, was drawn near the open 
door, in which sat the burly form of the baronet. He was 
apparently absorbed in unpleasant thought, for his brow was 
clouded, and his lips unclosed at intervals to utter impreca- 
tions. 

Sir Hugh Methurn was a heavy, coarse-looking man, 
verging toward his sixtieth year, and his bloated features 
betrayed the cause of the gout from which he evidently 
suffered, for his swollen feet were wrapped in flannel, and a 
crutch rested against the arm of his chair. 

Few who looked upon the wreck of a once stately-looking 
man would have recognized the court gallant who, in the 
roystering days of Charles II., had figured among the most 
distinguished beaux of that dissolute period. Foremost 
among the most reckless of the merry monarch’s court was 
the gay Sir Hugh Methurn, and the deepest inroads upon 


A PROUD AND RUINED OLD HOUSE. 25 


his inheritance were made in those days of reckless folly 
and boundless prodigality. 

When his ruin was nearly consummated, Sir Hugh retired 
to his paternal acres to recruit his finances and curse the 
extravagance of which he had been guilty. On looking 
into his affairs he found that the only resource to avert 
absolute ruin was a wealthy marriage. The hey-day of 
youth was past, but Sir Hugh was still a fine-looking man, 
with the polished address of a finished courtier with which 
to veil the inherent coarseness of his nature and the violence 
of his temper. 

Devoured with ennui in his secluded home, he sought 
such diversion as the society of the neighborhood afforded, 
and, in spite of the reputation which had preceded him, he 
was graciously received by every family in which unmarried 
daughters were found. Quite a rivalry ensued between the 
young ladies of the neighborhood as to which one should 
bear the title of Lady Methurn, and this doubtful honor 
was finally bestowed upon an orphan heiress whose fortune 
was entirely within her own control. Sir Hugh made such 
inquiries as satisfied him as to the exact amount possessed 
by Miss Yernor and the manner in which it was invested. 
She had inherited thirty thousand pounds, which at that 
day was considered a magnificent dower. 

Sir Hugh decided that with her beauty and fortune Ara- 
bella Veruor was worthy to become his wife, and he so suc- 
cessfully played the part of the tender wooer that within 
three months from their first meeting she became Lady 
Methurn. 

The union proved wretchedly unhappy. The young bride 
was spirited and haughty ; she was perfectly conscious of 
what was due to her as the possessor of a large fortune and 
the wife of an English baronet ; but the exacting and impe- 
rious temper of her husband led him to treat her only as a 


26 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


superior menial in his household rather than as its lawful 
mistress. 

Lady Methurn soon recoiled from her husband with all 
the strength of a passionate nature ; she bitterly resented 
the treatment she received ; but the hard and cold nature 
with which she had to deal crushed her into submission, and 
her proud heart broke beneath the indignities to which she 
was subjected. 

In the first year of their union a son was born, and a few 
months afterward Lady Methurn suddenly died under very 
mysterious circumstances. She had no near relations to in- 
quire into the causes of her death, and although many wild 
stories were whispered in the neighborhood, no one ventured 
openly to accuse Sir Hugh of having made away with his 
wife. 

Satisfied with his experience of married life, the baronet 
made no effort to assume such bonds again. The infant was 
put out to nurse, and Sir Hugh returned to London to 
resume his former course of dissipation. He no longer cared 
to glitter in court circles, but in gambling houses, at horse 
races and theatres he was always found, and the fortune 
obtained by his wife soon melted away as his own had done 
before. He thought little of the wrong he was thus inflict- 
ing upon his son, for self-indulgence was the first law of his 
nature, and the claims of others were held as nought where 
they conflicted with his own wishes. 

At length his resources were exhausted, his health 
broken, and premature old age creeping upon him. Noth- 
ing remained to him but to return to his paternal acres and 
vegetate there for the remainder of his life. Sir Hugh 
found his son a wild untrained lad of ten summers, nomi- 
nally under the care of the curate of the parish, who eked 
out his narrow income by receiving a few pupils; but Yer- 
nor preferred a ride after the fox hounds, or a gunning 
expedition, to the dull lore of books. 


A PROUD AND RUINED OLD HOUSE. 27 


His father rather encouraged such preferences; he thought 
they indicated manliness of character, and his cold heart 
opened to the boy as he fancied he recognized in his wild 
daring and wayward spirit a strong resemblance to himself. 

The gay sallies of the lad amused him, and after Sir 
Hugh’s return to the Priory, Vernor’s attendance upon his 
tutor was less frequent than ever. The father and son lived 
together, and two servants, a groom and housekeeper, form- 
ed their whole establishment. Thus Yernor might have 
grown into a veritable Orson, but in his fourteenth year a 
diversion was made in his favor by the arrival of a gfentle 
and refined woman to act as mistress of his father’s house. 

Sir Hugh had an only brother, who lived on a small pro- 
perty inherited from his mother, which was situated in the 
north of England. His sudden demise left a widow and 
only son slenderly provided for ; for Henry Methurn had 
embarked all his means in a speculation, the failure of which 
broke his heart. In his last moments he wrote an appeal to 
his brother to receive his widow and child beneath his roof, 
and assist her to educate her son for some career in which 
Gerald could win his bread in the future. Mrs. Methurn 
had a small annuity secured to her for life, but it was insuffi- 
cient to enable her to live in comfort with her son. 

At the first reception of this news, Sir Hugh was irate at 
the burden about to be imposed upon his broken fortunes, 
but Vernor declared that he should be glad to have a com- 
panion of his own age to share his sports ; he insisted that 
their household would be better managed by his aunt than 
by the old woman who performed the double duties of cook 
and housekeeper. 

Sir Hugh reflected that Mrs. Methurn would not be 
absolutely dependent upon him, and with less reluctance the 
letter was written which accorded permission to the widow 
and her son to shelter themselves beneath his roof. 


28 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


They came, and the baronet soon found that he would 
have no cause to regret his liberality. Mrs. Methurn was a 
pleasing and refined woman, an accomplished nurse, and 
thoroughly drilled in domestic affairs. She brought with her 
a servant of her own, and a suit of apartments was prepared 
for her use. The changes she introduced in their way of 
living were so gradually and unostentatiously made, that 
Sir Hugh was scarcely conscious of them till they were ac- 
complished. She nursed him in his attacks of gout so skill- 
fully — bore with his outbursts of temper so patiently, that 
he soon wondered how he had managed to live so long with- 
out her womanly ministrations. 

Her son was a quiet, retiring lad in his twelfth year, 
who submitted to be patronized by Yernor with an air of 
placid indifference, for the two cousins were as unlike in char- 
acter as they were in personal appearance. The young heir, 
with his fair complexion, profusion of fair hair, and light, 
flashing blue eyes, seemed the very impersonation of the 
wild and daring Saxon ; his fiery and impatient temper 
would not brook constraint, and nearly as free as the Arab 
of the desert he had hitherto been. 

Gerald Methurn was in every respect a strong contrast 
to him. His complexion was dark, his eyes and hair black 
like those of his mother, and his features regular as those of 
a young Antinous. His lithe and graceful figure was 
perfectly proportioned, and promised in its full development 
a rare union of strength and symmetry. Beneath the gen- 
tleness of his manner lay impulses as strong, a will as 
unyielding as that of his more demonstrative cousin ; but of 
that he was as yet himself unconscious. The influence of 
his mother had thus far moulded his nature, but when the 
trials of life came, Gerald was to show the true metal that 
lay beneath that fair boyish exterior. 

In the second year of Mrs. Methurn’s residence at the 


A PROUD AND RUINED OLD HOUSE. 29 


Priory, a strange lady in bad health came to the neigh- 
boring village for the benefit of sea-bathing. She was 
accompanied by a little girl of very attractive appearance 
and great sprightliness, who was then in her sixth year. In 
her visits of benevolence to the cottages of the poor, Mrs. 
Methurn accidentally encountered the pale invalid. An 
acquaintance ensued which soon ripened into a warm 
friendship. Mrs. Clifton was dying of an incurable disease, 
and she soon confided to her new friend the fact that at her 
decease her child would be left without a protector on whom 
she possessed any claim of affection. 

Mrs. Clifton stated that she had eloped with the younger 
son of a noble family; her husband had been castoff for 
marrying so far beneath himself, for she was the daughter 
of his tutor. Her father received them in his humble home, 
and at his death bequeathed her the savings of life, which 
afforded her the narrow income of eighty pounds a year. 
On this the young couple managed to live contentedly, for 
they were devoted to each other, until Mr. Clifton was 
drowned in a yatching expedition. 

The sudden and violent shock produced the heart disease 
of which she was dying, and what was to be the fate of her 
desolate orphan after her decease she could not think with- 
out a shudder. To the suggestion of Mrs. Methurn that 
her father’s family would probably receive the little Ethel, 
she replied that her husband’s family had treated her with 
such indignity that she could not think of throwing her 
daughter on their protection. She sighed bitterly as she 
added : 

(i My Ethel is a little waif who will be thrown on this 
wide world after I am gone. Dear friend, if I could only 
confide her to you — once certain that your gentle, womanly 
heart would watch over her, I should die happy.” 

u If I were in my own house,” replied Mrs. Methurn, <( I 


80 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


would not hesitate to assume the charge; but Sir Hugh is 
peculiar, and I am afraid that he would scarcely consent to 
receive the child at the Priory.” 

11 She will not be a dependent,” said the pale mother. 
lt My small means are securely invested, and she will have 
enough to keep her above want. I must lose no time in 
seeking an asylum for her, for I feel that my time on earth 
is brief.” 

This conversation took place on the evening of a lovely 
summer day, and the friends parted, little dreaming that it 
was for the last time. 

At an early hour on the following day, a messenger came in 
haste to the Priory, to say that Mrs. Clifton was found dead 
in her bed that morning, and the child was inconsolable for 
the loss she had sustained. Mrs. Methurn went at once to 
the village, and the desolate state of the little creature thus 
left alone in the world, touched her deeply. She saw that 
arrangements for a respectable funeral were made, and 
returned to the Priory, bringing with her the young orphan ; 
for she justly reasoned that Sir Hugh would not object to 
her presence for a few days. 

Coarse and ill-tempered as the baronet was, he was not 
quite an ogre, and the delicate beauty of the child, the deep 
and quiet sorrow of a creature so young, touched even his 
hard heart, and he submitted to her presence without mak- 
ing the disagreeable comments her new protectress had 
feared. 

Mrs. Clifton was consigned to the grave, and her effects 
examined, to discover to whom letters should be addressed 
with reference to the position of the young Ethel. From 
these it was ascertained that Baron Clifton, of Cliffden, was 
her grandfather, and to him a notification of the sudden 
death was sent, together with a statement of where Ethel 
was to be found. 


A PROUD AND RUINED OLD HOUSE. 31 


In due time a reply came, in which the viscount formally 
renounced all interest in the little girl, and refused to receive 
her. He stated that, on application to his man of business, 
fifty pounds a year would be paid for the support of the 
child, and requested her present protectors to find some one 
who would take charge of her for that sum. Beyond that 
he neither could nor would interest himself in her welfare ; 
her father had been disowned for the plebeian alliance he 
had made, and his daughter had no claim on him beyond 
being provided with the bare means of living. 

Several weeks had elapsed since Ethel was received at 
the Priory, and in that time the natural playfulness and 
vivacity of her temper began to revive. She betrayed no fear 
of Sir Hugh, and the novelty of being caressed by a lovely 
little fairy, and prattled to with the sweet ingenuousness of 
her years, became attractive to him. The two boys were 
charmed with her precocious intelligence, and when the fiat 
of her grandfather came, it was soon understood that Ethel 
was to remain in the asylum in which fate had cast her. 

The sum which was annually paid over to Sir Hugh’s 
order, enabled him to obtain many indulgences which he 
could not hitherto afford, and Ethel soon became an impor- 
tant member of the little family. Vernor teazed, petted and 
tyrannized over her by turns, and his more gentle cousin 
undertook the part of instructor to her in such branches of 
education as his mother did not superintend. Ethel proved 
a docile and apt pupil, and her young preceptor took 
extreme pride in her progress. 

Mrs. Methurn became tenderly attached to her protegee, 
and she had never regretted the adoption of this little waif. 
Three years had passed away since the death of Mrs. Clif- 
ton, and Ethel was now in her tenth year, Gerald Methurn 
sixteen, and the young heir eighteen years of age. Such 
was the state of affairs at the Priory at the opening of our 
story. 


32 


THE GIPSY ? S WARNING. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 

Sir Hugh uttered several impatient growls, and then 
burst forth : 

“Diable ! am I to sit here by myself the whole evening ? 
What has become of those young monkeys, I wonder. 
What can have become of Ethel, that she does not come to 
tell me how the Mayday has passed off. Ah ! times have 
changed with me since I was the gayest galliard in such a 
scene. Dancing on the light fantastic toe wouldn’t be so 
pleasant with these cursed old gouty feet. Ugh! why can’t 
nature gently steal away the breath that is onty drawn in 
pain ? What is the use of an old hulk like me continuing 
to cumber the ground ? I’m tired of life; it’s a disgusting 
performance, this rattling through the seven ages allotted to 
man. I’ve almost come to the Mean and slippered panta- 
loon,’ though with me the lean portion will never come to 
pass ; I know how to keep up the supplies too well for 
that;” and he stretched forth his hand toward a decanter 
that stood on the table near him. After holding it up to 
the light, and admiringly surveying the deep ruby tint of 
the wine, he poured out a goblet nearly full, and quaffed it 
with the true gusto of a connoisseur. 

“The doctor said a thimbleful wouldn’t hurt me. His 
idea of a thimbleful and mine probably differ ; but I prefer 
my measure. Fine wine — noble wine; but Yernor shows 
too much fondness for it of late. I must not encourage the 
lad in such habits, for they have brought me to what I am. 
So I’ll just finish the bottle before he returns. I’ve already 
exceeded bounds, and a drop more won’t add much to the 
mischief that’s already done. Why should wine, which 


THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 


33 


even the Scriptures recommend — which Christ himself 
manufactured out of water — be so injurious to man, I won- 
der? I don’t believe it is; my gout is constitutional; I 
got it from ray ancestors, with many other things that were 
better worth having, which have somehow slipped away 
from me, while this cursed inheritance hangs on, and crip- 
ples me half the time.” 

While he thus muttered, Sir Hugh again applied to his 
bottle, and poured forth the last drop, which was drained at 
a draught. At that moment the sound of appoaching music 
was heard, which was soon blended with the confused mur- 
mur of voices ; and peering through the open door, he saw a 
joyous group approaching the house. The three most prom- 
inent figures were very familiar to him, and he grunted : 

“ Hum ! coming at last, with that pack of grinning fools 
at their heels ! I wonder why they couldn’t have finished 
their revels without disturbing me with all this noise and 
clamor ? ” 

The door on his left hand opened, and a serene-looking 
woman, wearing a black robe and plain white collar, ap- 
proached him. Mrs. Methurn was yet youthful-looking, 
and the black hair that was combed back from her broad, 
smooth brow was unthreaded by a line of silver. The eyes 
were large, dark, and singularly soft in their expression ; 
and the quiet grace of her movements revealed the refined 
and gentle spirit from which they emanated. She spoke 
in a soft clear voice : 

“ Our revellers are returning ; they seem in great spirits, 
but I am afraid it was ill-judged to bring their companions 
back with them. Let me entreat, Sir Hugh, that you will 
not damp their mirth by too severe a reprimand.” 

“ Humph ! and much they’d mind it, if I did. I’ve been 
left by myself half the day, and now they are coming back 
with this cursed hullabaloo to deafen me and fill me with 
2 


84 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


spleen, over the mad antics in which I can no longer join. 
Yes, times are changed, sadly changed, with me.” 

The soft eyes compassionately regarded him. 

11 1 would have borne you company, if I had not had rea- 
son to suppose you preferred being alone. When I came 
you requested me to leave you to your own thoughts.” 

“ Ordered you, you should say — yes, I am a brute — I 
know I am ; but my infernal temper is always getting the 
better of me. This morning I was in one of my savage 
moods, but now I feel more human. The wine the doctor 
permitted me to take has brightened me up a little. With 
such tipple as this I feel as if there is still something worth 
living for.” 

The lady glanced toward the empty bottle, and said in a 
tone of surprise : 

“ You surely have not ventured to drink a whole bottle, 
Sir Hugh ? ” 

“ Zounds, madam, what is that trifle to a six bottle man ? 
a mere drop — a mere nothing. Would you have me such a 
milk-sop as to leave the beaker undrained ! Yes, I drank it 
all, and I think I should like more.” 

“ But the doctor said ” 

A volley of oaths burst from the choleric old man, and he 
exclaimed : 

“ The doctor and his drugs may go to the dogs. I’ve 
found out that they are worth nothing. Why don’t he set 
me on my feet if he has any skill ? Here I’ve been nearly 
helpless for three weeks, and he has done nothing to help 
me, till he had sense enough to say I might take a taste of 
this life-elixir.” 

Mrs. Methurn said nothing more, but she looked appre- 
hensively upon his flushed features, and thought with silent 
dread upon another seizure as dangerous as the one from 
which he was just recovering ; for Sir Hugh was the most 


THE gipsy’s prophecies. 35 

intractable of patients, and tlie most unmanageable of con- 
valescents. 

In the meantime the May-day group approached the 
house, the musicians playing a lively air, with which the 
voices of the young people mingled in a roundelay suited 
to the occasion. They seemed to have improvised a festival 
for themselves at the close of the one in which they had just 
participated ; for the rustic queen of the day walked in the 
rear, and in front was borne a wicker chair, over which a 
canopy, adorned with flowers, was erected. 

Beneath this was seated a child of slender proportions, 
her white robe wreathed with flowers, and her long amber 
locks flowing beneath a crown of the same. Her complexion 
was delicately fair, with eyes of deep violet blue, with long, 
dark lashes curling upward. There was an expression of 
extreme refinement in her charming face, and in her small 
hand she bore a sceptre adorned with roses. 

When her two bearers, Yernor and Gerald, placed her 
chair in front of the door, she sprang lightly from it, and 
bounding toward Sir Hugh, kneeled before him, and placed 
her crown and sceptre at his feet, as she said : 

(( The May Queen deputes me to offer her homage to the 
lord of the manor, and pray from him the liberty to tread a 
measure in the ancient hall of his fathers.” 

« Ho ! Lady-Bird, that speech smacks of my scholarly 
nephew, for you would never have made it of yourself. 
What ! dance in this old place? We’ve not trod a measure 
here since my lady died, but that is now many a year ago. 
My dancing days are over, but Yernor no doubt thinks his 
day has come. Well, well, young folks, since you’ve all 
come with the hope of having a reel, I’ll not be bear enough 
to balk you. Come in, place yourselves, and let me see how 
you can perform.” 

“ Thank you, dear, good Sir Hugh ! I knew you would 


36 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


consent,” exclaimed the little girl, starting up and clapping 
her hands. “ Now, Gerald, let us take our places.” 

Yernor stepped forward, and with a flashing glance said: 

“ To the heir belongs the hand of the fairy-queen. Come 
Ethel, let me lead you to the head of the reel.” 

She drew back, and with an air of childish command, 
said : 

“ I am but the queen’s deputy ; there stands the one to 
whom your courtesy is due,” making a gesture toward a 
young girl of sixteen, who stood blushing and expectant of 
this honor. 

Yernor imperiously replied : 

“ Gerald may do the honors there. You are to dance with 
me ; I choose it to be so, and that is enough.” 

He seized her hand and drew her toward the further end 
of the hall, saying to his cousin as he passed him : 

(( Take out the rustic queen, Gerald, I prefer her deputy.” 

A faint flush crossed the olive cheek of the youth, but he 
was too much accustomed to the overbearing spirit of his 
cousin to be surprised at the command. He bowed courte- 
ously and approached the young girl, who looked resentfully 
after the young heir and his unwilling companion. But her 
brow cleared, and the smile returned to her lips as she lis- 
tened to the request of Gerald to become his partner. She 
gave him her hand and, with an arch expression said: 

“ If. Mr. Yernor had only known what a Gipsy told me 
yesterday afternoon he would never have put this slight 
upon me.” 

" So — you have dealings with gipsies, Miss Kate Con- 
way. What would your father say to that, I wonder ? ” 

“ He’d scold me and keep me from walking in the roads, 
I suppose ; but don’t you want to hear what she said, for 
now it concerns you.” 

“ Indeed ! pray let me hear it then.” 


THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 


37 


u The queen of the tribe told me that the one with whom 
I should first dance on this evening would be crowned with 
good fortune.” 

Gerald laughed gaily. 

“Of course — since I have the honor to dance with you — 
that was all the prophet meant.” 

“ Oh, no — by no means — for she went on to say that 
after many trials and difficulties you would win all you 
desire.” 

u It will be brave news for my mother that her darling 
boy is to become a favorite of fortune ; but, unluckily, 
Gipsies’ prophecies rarely meet with fulfilment. I am 
afraid that in this instance there is little prospect of their 
being realized.” 

“ But I tell you this was the queen of the tribe — an old 
woman known far and wide for her skill in fortune telling ; 
and I am glad, Master Gerald, that you are the person she 
referred to, for you are good as well as brave. I have not 
forgotten the time you dragged my brother from the fish- 
pond at the risk of your own life.” 

Gerald blushed slightly at this praise. He said : 

“ I only acted from an impulse of humanity. I could not 
see a lad drown when I knew how to swim, and my own 
life was not in the slightest danger, 1 assure you.” 

“ Others thought differently, sir. But the music strikes 
up, and it is time for us to gain our places.” 

Fifteen couples stood up in a country-dance, at the head 
of which were the two cousins with their partners. Ethel 
flitted through the mazes of the reel with the light and airy 
grace which distinguished her, and Sir Hugh watched her 
with an emotion almost of pleasure. He contrasted her 
with the rosy and rustic beauties from the village, and said 
to Mrs. Methurn : 

“ See how our Lady Bird puts all the rest to shame ; she 


88 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


might some day make a figure at court, if that old curmud- 
geon of a grandfather would do his duty by her.” 

“ Then we should lose our darling,” said the lady, with a 
pensive smile. “ Neither should I be willing to know that 
my pure-hearted child was exposed to the temptations of 
such a court as that which is now found at Whitehall.” 

“ Zounds ! Madam, you talk like a simpleton. The 
king is the most polite of men ; he does not love long faces, 
and he does love youth and beauty. Life away from the 
court is but vegetating. I have sunned myself in royal 
favor, and I know what it is worth. If my acres had not so 
dreadfully dwindled away, I would take our young people to 
London and see what would come of it.” 

“I can tell you beforehand, Sir Hugh. Ruin would be 
the result. The favor of the present king did not reimburse 
you for your losses in the cause of his father. We had bet- 
ter content ourselves in the station Providence has assigned 
us, and teach our young people not to aspire beyond it.” 

“ Stuff! for a sensible woman, you do talk more foolishly 
than any one I ever saw. Aspire ! It is our right to do so ; 
it is in our blood, and if Vernor was willing to sit down on 
this ruined estate, and seek for no means of rising in the 
future, I should despise him. No — he must build up a 
great future ; risk everything to restore the ancient prestige 
of his family. He is handsome, daring and ambitious, and 
it is a bitter thought to me that I can do so little for him.” 

Mrs. Methurn did not remind him that to his own prodi- 
gality he owed his present disability to aid his son. She 
only replied : 

“ He who is born to a great destiny will achieve it in spite 
of difficulties. Vernor possesses all the qualities of which 
you speak, and I trust he will make a good use of them. 
As to my own boy, if he becomes a noble and true man, 
with industry to win his way to a competency, I shall be 


THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 


39 


satisfied. I have endeavored to give him good principles, 
and correct views of his responsibility as a human creature 
—the rest I am content to leave to a higher power.” 

“ Oh, I dare say,” sneered the irritable baronet ; “ but 
I ? ve never seen that any power helped those who don’t try 
to help themselves. Gerald is a very good lad, and it is 
well enough for him to content himself in obscurity. He is 
not the representative of the family, and my son is; you 
see there is a wide difference.” 

The fond mother glanced toward the two youths, and 
thought there was indeed a wide difference, but her mater- 
nal partiality induced her to believe that the comparison was 
entirely in favor of her own son. The manly self-depend- 
ence of Gerald, combined with quiet simplicity of character, 
rose in strong contrast with the reckless will and fiery tem- 
per of the heir, who already showed the traits of his father 
in a striking manner. Mrs. Methurn often marvelled what 
Vernor’s future was to be, and feared that the restraints of 
principle would be slightly regarded in the pursuit of any 
course that promised pleasure or profit to himself. 

But the cessation of the dance recalled her to the necessity 
of providing refreshments for their unexpected guests, and 
at her command, foaming tumblers of ale were brought in 
with such edibles as the house afforded. While sipping hers, 
the May Queen addressed Vernor with a slight toss of her 
pretty head. 

“You would not dance with me, Mr. Vernor, but you 
gained nothing by your refusal, let me tell you. Ask your 
cousin what I have told him.” 

“ I am sure I do not know what I have lost,” replied the 
young man, indifferently. “ I owed you a return for refus- 
ing to walk with me yesterday.” 

“My father forbade my doing so, and he will not like my 
coming here this afternoon, for he says you have been try- 
ing to turn my head lately by your flatteries.” 


40 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


u Well, it’s a very pretty head, and what can yonr father 
expect but that a gay young man will tell you so ? But 
what have I lost, Kate ? I am curious to find out.” 

“ Only the benefit of a prediction ; that is all.” 

“Really! I am more curious than ever; pray enlighten 
me.” 

The girl then related what she had already told Gerald, 
and the young man glanced toward his cousin with an air 
of chagrin, but he laughed and said : 

“ I fancy I can accomplish more for myself than the pro- 
phecies of the gipsy can bring about. But where did you 
find her? I did not know there is an encampment in the 
neighborhood. Mrs. Tarply had better begin to look after 
her poultry if they are hereabouts.” 

“ I accidentally came on them as I was walking last even- 
ing and the head woman of all told my fortune.” 

“ So-o — you did walk after all. Tell me where they are 
to be fbund, for I have a desire to see this famous seeress.” 

“ They are in a hollow behind the beech wood, about a 
mile below the Priory.” 

“ I often shoot in that direction and I shall seek them 
out to-morrow, and probably warn them off. They are a 
set of pestilent vagrants and should not be permitted to re- 
main on any gentleman’s property.” 

Vernor sauntered away, and the fair Kate consoled her- 
self for his neglect by flirting voilently with a young yeo- 
man who had long been in love with her. 

Kate Conway was the daughter of a rich farmer, and as 
her father’s income was quite equal to that of Sir Hugh, she 
had ambitiously aspired to become the future Lady Meth- 
urn ; but the incidents of the day had taught her that the 
attentions and flatteries of the young heir meant nothing, 
and she wisely turned to one in her own sphere for con- 
solation. 


THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 


41 


As the sun was setting the party broke up, and the 
family gathered around the frugal evening meal, which was 
served in a small apartment adjoining the great banquet- 
ing hall, which in the palmy days of the Methurns, had 
resounded with mirth and wassail. Now, it was desolate in 
its faded grandeur ; given up to the rats aud spiders, for Sir 
Hugh’s decayed fortunes no longer permitted him to enter- 
tain his neighbors in the roystering style of the day, and 
his pride was too great to permit him to receive them with 
less splendor than had been the ancient custom of his house. 

A deeply embayed window opened from this smaller 
apartment upon the neglected park, and the soft spring air 
fluttered through the shrubbery that grew near it. Ethel 
sat in such a position as to have a view of an opening in 
the woodland beyond, and she suddenly uttered an excla- 
mation, and said : 

“ What a strange looking woman ! and she is coming here, 
I declare.” 

Vernor rose and approached the window. 

“ It is one of the gipsy clan of which Kate Conway spoke. 
What do you say, Ethel, to having your fortune told ? ” 

“ Oh, I rather not, I am sure, I am afraid she might tell 
me something dreadful ! ” 

“Pooh! there’s no danger of that. She is too keen to 
tell what she thinks will not please. It will be some fun to 
see what the old impostor pretends to know of the future. 
Shall we let her in, father?” 

Sir Hugh was in a better humor than usual, and after 
glancing toward the woman who was approaching with 
rapid strides straight toward the Priory, he said : 

If you choose ; but I think it is folly to meddle with 
such mummery. What is to come, will come without any 
intervention from such a witch as that.” 

The woman was now sufficiently near to be distinctly seen, 


42 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


and the uncomplimentary epithet applied to her seemed well 
deserved. She was very tall and strongly built, and her 
step was as free and firm as that of a woman of twenty, 
though her brown features were hideously wrinkled, and her 
black hair thickly streaked with gray, hung loosely over her 
shoulders beneath a crimson scarf which was wound about 
her head in the shape of a turban. A faded gown fell to 
her feet, over which was thrown a red cloak much the worse 
for wear. 

The black eyes of this sinister apparition flashed upon 
the young party which had gathered in front of the window, 
and her keen glance wandered alternately from face to face, 
as if seeking to read the peculiarities of those she was about 
to address. 

“ A fair good evening to you, my young friends,” she said, 
in a loud, clear voice. " A pretty trio for fate to dispose of. 
Cross my hand with silver, young sir,” addressing Vernor, 
" and let me tell you what Fortune has in store for you.” 

“ If I cross it with gold will not my fortune be better 
worth hearing?” he mockingly asked. “ Tell me truly, 
good dame ; for I would give much to purchase even the 
promise of a brilliant future.” 

The woman fixedly regarded him as she replied : 

“ The oracle is not to be bribed to utter that which is not 
to be. Let me see the lines in your hand, and for a silver 
coin I will tell you all I may see there.” 

Yernor drew a shilling from his pocket and placed it on her 
outstretched palm ; then, extending his own hand, he laugh- 
ingly said : 

“ Tell me the good, but leave the bad unspoken. I do not 
wish to be disenchanted with life before I have fairly com- 
menced it.” 

The gipsy glanced at the lines within the well shaped 
hand she held, and, suddenly dropping it, she tendered him 
back the money he had given her. 


THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 


43 


et Your fate is so mingled with good and evil that I cannot 
attempt to tell one without the other. Take back your coin, 
since you will not hear all.” 

Vernor flushed deeply, and he haughtily said: 

“ But it is my will that you speak only what I wish to 
know. 1 The wheat can be separated from the tares,’ as the 
parson often says.” 

The woman regarded him with an expression as haughty 
as his own, and she sternly said : 

“ I, too, know something of the Scriptures, and it is there 
said that the good grain was choked by the tares that 
sprung up around it. Such will be your case, young sir, 
Unbridled passions, reckless will, ever bring forth the same 
fruits. Since you will have what I read in the lines traced 
upon your palm, I will speak the whole. You will conspire 
against the government — meet with defeat, imprisonment, 
ending in something worse. There will be gleams of good 
fortune which will but serve to delude you, and at noonday 
your life will be ” 

She paused, for Yernor had raised his hand menacingly, 
and he peremptorily spoke : 

" Enough ; I have no faith in your words, and in time 
I shall prove them false. Now read the future of this child,” 
and he drew Ethel forward in spite of her efforts to remain 
unnoticed. 

The harshness melted from the brow of the woman as her 
eyes fell upon the fair face of the little girl, and she softly 
said : 

“A dainty queen she will be; and, what is better, a lovely 
and beloved woman. Nay, little one, lay your tender hand 
in my hard brown one, and do not tremble so ; for such as 
you the Fates have good in store.” 

Thus reassured, Ethel suffered the Gipsy to peer into the 
rosy little palm, which she extended with much internal 
perturbation ; but she deprecatingly said : 


44 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ If you see anything very bad pray don’t tell me of it.” 

“Poor little dove! I see that a hawk will swoop down 
and attempt to bear you away ; but a young eagle will drive 
him off and place you in his nest in safety. After trouble 
comes joy, upon darkness breaks the light ; and happy and 
fortunate will he be who will claim you as his own.” 

" Very lucid, upon my word, ” sneered Yernor, as the 
woman dropped Ethel’s hand. “ Quite as easy to interpret 
as the oracles of the Delphian sisterhood ; and now for my 
cousin. He is a pattern youth, so I am anxious to know 
what awaits him in the future.” 

The seeress earnestly regarded the noble face of Gerald, 
and said : 

" I read truth and candor on the broad brow, courage and 
hope in the earnest eyes, and success in the firm lips. His 
line of life also says that honor and good fortune shall crown 
him in the days that are to come.” 

Vernor started at the repetition of the prophecy which 
Kate Conway had so lately repeated, and a glance of pas- 
sionate malignity fell upon his cousin as he said : 

“ So — all the good is reserved for Gerald and Ethel, and 
the vials of wrath are only to be poured out on me. What 
have I done to deserve such a fate at your hands, I pray ? ” 

u Nothing as yet. The acts which will bear such bitter 
fruits lie veiled in the future. I might warn you to avoid 
them, but what is writ is writ, and as easily could I arrest 
the crash of the avalanche as stay you in the career you will 
surely run. He who grudges to the wandering Gipsy the 
shelter of his woodland, the game that wanders wild in the 
fern, and water from the bubbling spring, need hope for 
little good from the unseen spirits of the air, who rule and 
shape our destinies.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! then you have heard my threat to drive 
you from your covert, and thus my evil fortune is accounted 


the gipsy’s prophecies. 45 

for. Accept the warning you seem already to have received, 
for I shall certainly be as good my word. If I find you on 
my father’s grounds to-morrow, I will set my bloodhounds 
on your track.” 

The woman regarded him defiantly, and she significantly 
said : 

“Perhaps Sir Hugh Methurn will have a word to say to 
that. I came hither to speak with him, and I wish to see 
him alone.” 

Sir Hugh and Mrs. Methurn were still at the table, and 
the group of young people around the window had hitherto 
concealed the visitor from them. Yernor stepped aside and 
called out to his father. 

“ Here’s a queen, sir, who demands a private interview 
with you, to petition for the right of herself and her vaga- 
bond companions to forage on your domain. What do you 
say to it, sir ? ” 

Gerald and Ethel also drew away from the window, and 
the striking figure of the Gipsy stood as if framed in the 
open space, with a background of foliage through which the 
crimson clouds that still lingered on the horizon cast their 
radiant glow. 

Sir Hugh regarded her with a stare of astonishment, 
and he roughly said : 

“ Let the hag go her ways, I have nothing to say to her.” 

The Gipsy raised her finger warningly : 

“ But I have much to say to you, Methurn. Hemember 
the Secret Chamber” 

The baronet fell back upon his seat, and the purple flush 
upon his features faded to a livid hue as he listened to her 
mysterious words. The woman continued to gaze steadily, 
almost fiercely upon him, and after a moment of painful 
indecision he waved his hand and said: 

“ Away, all of you. Let the woman enter — I must speak 
with her in private.” 


46 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


In that house Sir Hugh’s mandates were always obeyed 
without question, and even Vernor dared not linger, much 
as his curiosity was excited. 

In a few moments the baronet was left alone in the room, 
and at a sign from him his strange visitor stepped over the 
low sill of the window and approached his chair. He gazed 
upon her wrinkled face with an expression of repulsion which 
she was quick to read and interpret, and with an accent of 
scornful bitterness she said : 

“ Once, Hugh Methurn, your eyes bore a different expres- 
sion when I approached you. But then I was young and 
gay; now I am old and haggard. Look at my wrinkled face, 
at my whitened hair, and see if in them you can behold a 
trace of the wild beauty that once fascinated you ; and I, in 
my turn, can gaze upon your bloated form, your swollen 
features, and contrast your present self with the gay gal- 
liard who came among my tribe, and spent months in 
wandering with us for the sake of the Gipsy Queen, whose 
only power has departed from her — that of youth and 
beauty.” 

“Yes,” faltered Sir Hugh, “we are both sadly changed 
since those days. But what can have brought you here, 
Minchen, and why did you make so dangerous an allusion 
as that you uttered but now ? ” 

“ Dangerous ? Why should it be ? No one understood 
it but you and I. Ho ! those were merry days when I shut 
up my rival, and gloated over her misery, while you took her 
gold and squandered it. I tortured her — I taunted heT with 
her hepless position. She had a proud heart, and between 
us we broke it at last. Ha, Sir Hugh, do you ever enter 
that chamber now ? ” 

il Why should I ? ” he faltered. “ I have no business 
there, and the spring has rusted from long disuse. I have 
not trod the way for fifteen years, and now it is probably* 
impossible to find it.” 


THE GIPSY’S PROPHECIES. 


47 


u Then I know more of your house than you do yourself ; 
the spring is not rusted, and the passage is open, for I have 
passed through it to-day.” 

“You/ what took you there, and why have you come to 
me now ? I trusted that you and I had met for the last 
time.” 

“ Oh, I dare say. Since you have become a respectable 
family man, you would be glad to forget the black spot that 
is upon your escutcheon ; but it will spread, Hugh Methurn, 
it will spread, and her son will do nothing to remove the 
stain. The ban is upon you, Sir Hugh, and the son in 
whom all your pride is centered, will yet bring woe to your 
heart. He will bitterly avenge the wrongs of his mother, 
though it will be through his own ruin that the vengeance 
will be accomplished.” 

“ Woman ! how dare you speak thus ? Is it not enough 
that I surrendered to you one victim to appease your jealous 
wrath, but you must come hither todenouce evil against her 
son ? I will not bear it — no, I will not.” 

11 How can you help yourself, Sir Hugh ? I hold your 
life in my hand — your honor is at my mercy — I speak what 
fate has ordained. The son of Belle Vernor shall no more 
reign in the halls of Methurn, than my son shall claim the 
inheritance which is his right by of seniority. But both shall 
make way for a better man. The spirit of prophecy that 
has descended to me through many generations, has foreshad- 
owed the fate of this house. You refuse to believe me, but 
that matters not — the destiny that is ordained must fulfill 
itself.” 

“ No ! ” he passionately said — “ I will not believe in your 
evil predictions. You hate the boy. You have hated him 
from the hour of his birth, and your malignity leads you to 
foretell ruin to him. What is your purpose in coming here 
now ? Speak, and if I can aid you in any way I will do 


48 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


it, on the condition that you will leave me forever. Your 
presence stifles me.” 

“ Ha ! ha ! it brings back the memory of your crime. You 
fear that retribution is coming. But not from my hand, 
Hugh Methurn — not from me. My boy has your eyes, when 
they beamed with the light of love ; your voice, when it spoke 
only to deceive, and I would not have him know that doom * 
fell upon his false father through my means. No — you’re 
safe so far as I am concerned, and no other human creature 
knows of the dark deed we planned and executed together.” 

“ Then I again ask you what has brought you hither? ” 

She replied with a bitter smile : 

“ To see my old love — to talk with him ; to show him 
the wreck of the beauty he once valued so highly. To look 
upon him, and wonder how I could ever so madly have loved 
him.” 

“ That is accomplished, so leave me,” sullenly replied Sir 
Hugh. “ If you are disenchanted, I am doubly so. In the 
wrinkled hag you have become, I see few traces of the 
brilliant Minchen who turned the evil in my nature to her 
own purposes. You demanded the sacrifice of my wife, and 
I, prompted equally by love and avarice, consented. I 
grasped the fortune I coveted, and cast it to the winds. I 
uow believe that you urged me to it in the hope that my son 
would be left penniless; but I am not quite ruined. I 
have saved a few of my hereditary acres, and the old house 
will descend to the lawful representative of my family.” 

“ And the other son, the eldest born, Sir Hugh, what 
shall be his patrimony ? The heart of the father should be 
as tender to one child as another.” 

“ I would long since have removed Melchoir from you, 
and provided for him in the best manner my limited means 
would have enabled me to do, but you spurned all my offers. 
You have reared him to follow your own wild life, and I 


the gipsy’s prophecies. 49 

have ceased to take an interest in him. The boy never 
loved me, then why should I trouble myself about him ? ” 

“ True, Sir Hugh, but you know the cause. The blow 
dealt in anger has not ceased to affect him ; but he has sense 
enough to understand and bitterly resent the treatment his 
mother has received at your hands. He knows that when I 
ceased to be attractive to you I was cast off with a hardness 
of heart which few can emulate. You taunt me with my 
changed appearance, but what ploughed these wrinkles on 
my face ? what blanched my hair to silver and turned my 
heart to gall but your desertion ? Oh ! Sir Hugh Methurn, 
we have a brave score to settle yet, and it is not my purpose 
to abate one jot or tittle of the reckoning.” 

The naturally irritable temper of the baronet was aroused 
to fury by this threat. There was in his heart no lingering 
feeling of tenderness for the speaker, and he angrily replied: 

“Exact it if you will ; but I warn you that the ruin that 
crushes me shall also fall on you. You want money, I sup- 
pose ; I am poor enough, but I can give you a small sum if 
you will promise never to trouble me again, nor to thrust 
upon me the claims of your son.” 

He drew forth a worn pocket-book and took from it sev- 
eral gold pieces, which he offered to her with an expression 
of reluctance which the woman fathomed ; but she took the 
coins, and, dropping them into a faded pouch that hung at 
her side, said : 

“ Melchoir has never troubled you, nor will he ever do so. 
He has the Gipsy’s heart, and he loves the wild life of the 
woods too well to accept even your ruined house, if the gift 
were coupled with the condition that he should dwell within 
it. I only ask leave to stay for a season upon your lands 
without being harried by the bloodhounds, as your wife's son 
has threatened us.” 

3 


50 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


(l You have it. Vernor spoke idly; he will obey my com- 
mand to leave you in peace.” 

“ Be sure that you exact obedience, Sir Hugh, or it will 
be worse for you,” was the threatening response, as the 
woman retreated through the window. 

She again turned and stood in the shadow of the case- 
ment; waving her hand toward him, with an expression of 
scornful sarcasm on her dark features, she said : 

“The hag leaves you to such peace as you may find, Hugh 
Methurn. If you have planted thorns in her heart, she ha3 
done the same by you ; so we are quits on that score. Of 
the love that is turned to gall, beware ! it can be more cruel, 
more implacable, than even hereditary hatred.” 

Before he could reply, she disappeared through the shrub- 
bery, and Sir Hugh gave vent to his pent-up wrath by a 
volley of execrations, which were unheard by her to whom 
they were addressed. 

Then he thought with dread of the power this woman 
possessed over him ; of her fierce temper, her undisguised 
hatred toward the son in whom all his hopes were centred, 
and he shuddered at the possibilities of the future. The 
allusion to the secret chamber, and what had occurred there, 
was full of horror to him, and he would have given much to 
be able to visit it once more, and ascertain the condition in 
which it now was ; but his crippled limbs forbade such an 
attempt, and he sat till twilight deepened into night, recall- 
ing that long-buried past, with its dreary array of heartless- 
ness and crime. 


MYSTERIES AND JEALOUSIES. 


51 


CHAPTER III. 

MYSTERIES AND JEALOUSIES. 

Lights were brought in, and soon after Vernor entered 
and looked around as if still expecting to see the gipsy. 
He lightly said : 

“ So your visitor has departed, sir ; I had no idea that 
she was an old acquaintance of yours, or I would not have 
threatened her with my hounds. Yet I think if the 
landed gentry would drive the gipsies from their lands as 
fast as they light down upon them to commit their depreda- 
tions, the country would soon be rid of such a pest.” 

“ That may be true, but since others tolerate them, we 
must do the same. The woman who came hither this even- 
ing has claims on me, and I wish herself and her followers 
to remain unmolested. In fact, I have promised her my 
protection.” 

“ Oh ! I shall not interfere with her now, sir. I was 
foolishly angry at the fortune she read me, but since I have 
no faith in such stuff, it would be absurd to resent it. Be- 
sides, toward a friend of yours, however humble, forbear- 
ance is due.” 

“This woman is not a friend of mine, Vernor,” replied 
the baronet testily. “I do not claim friendship with a 
wandering vagrant like that, but she is entitled to some 
consideration on the score of events that happened long ago. 
I cannot explain, nor is it necessary to do so. My wishes 
will suffice to prevent you from interfering with this gang 
in any way. I should be sorry to know that you had even 
talked with one of them.” 

Vernor keenly regarded his father, and he abruptly said : 

“ Then you must enlighten me on one subject, sir, or I 


52 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


shall certainly seek this female dragon and try my skill on 
her. What did she mean by speaking of the secret cham- 
ber ? You were deeply moved, I saw, and — ” 

“ My dear boy, 57 interrupted the baronet, speaking with 
affected calmness, “ I have long intended to confide this 
knowledge to you, as a portion of your inheritance. To 
the successive lords of the Priory, the existence of this 
chamber has been imparted under the strictest seal of 
secresv, and by you the knowledge of its locality must also 
be held sacred.” 

“Undoubtedly — I give you my pledge to do so,” replied 
the young man with much excitement. “Pray tell me all 
about it.” 

“In the older portion of the house which was once occu- 
pied by the monks, is an apartment so cunningly contrived 
that no one would ever suspect its existence. It is situated 
in the very heart of the building, with no outlet save 
through a passage which leads to it through the cellars. 
The entrance to it is known only to myself, and — and — and 
one other. It was doubtless used as a chamber of penitence 
in ancient times. In my own day it has served as a refuge 
for the hunted cavaliers in the time of the Boundheads. 
But it is now many years since I have entered it, and I 
think there will be much difficulty in penetrating to it 
again.” 

Sir Hugh uttered this explanation calmly and naturally, 
and his son listened to it with intense interest. He quickly 
said : 

“I must learn the way to this chamber, father, for in 
time to come, it may be as useful to me as it seems to have 
been to you. Troubles loom in the land ; when King 
Charles dies, the people *of England will not long submit to 
the rule of his brother. There seems to be a deep-seated 
dread of Jame3 among the yeomanry, if those of this sec- 
tion are a fair sample of the people of England.” 


MYSTERIES AND JEALOUSIES. 


53 


t{ I scarcely think they are. The western counties are 
filled with dissenters, and the landed proprietors are nearly 
all Protestants ; they naturally dread the rule of a Catholic 
King, and you hear many predictions of evil that will never 
come to pass. With common prudence, the Duke of York 
may succeed to the throne, and rule the people at least as 
wisely as Charles Stuart has done.” 

“ Which will not be saying much for his rule,” replied 
the young man with a sneer. “As to myself, I have my 
fortune to carve out in the future, and I look to the very 
disturbances I anticipate, to afford me the means of rising 
to the bight I am ambitious to attain. I have few scruples 
on the score of the divine right of kings, and the party that 
can elevate me is the one that I shall join. You see, sir, 
that the lessons you have inculcated have not fallen on 
unfruitful ground.” 

“ I did not intend to make you disloyal, Vernor; you 
have taken a flight far beyond me, and our house has 
already suffered too deeply from its adherence to the royal 
cause, to throw off our allegiance now. Do not permit your 
ambition to overleap its mark, my son.” 

“Yes,” replied Vernor bitterly, “you ruined yourself in 
the service of the Stuarts, and met no reward save a wel- 
come to the dissolute court of the king. The men who had 
fought for his father were passed by, and rewards only 
given to those who ministered to his pleasures.” 

Sir Hugh sighed and said : 

“ It is true, but there is no help for it. When Charley 
dies, his brother will quietly succeed him, and I hope that 
we shall never behold another civil war. It is better to 
submit to a feeble ruler, than to risk such a calamity as 
that.” 

“ Such is the reasoning of men who have passed the hey- 
day of youth, but it is not hearkened to by the young and 


54 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the aspiring. In change I see my rising fortunes, and a 
change of rulers I ardently hope for.” 

“ Who, then, would you place upon the throne if you had 
the power ? ” asked Sir Hugh, with a faint smile. 

“ Who but the handsome and gallant son of the present* 
king ? Do you remember the visit of Monmouth to Taun- 
ton but a short time since? You witnessed the enthu- 
siastic reception he met with ; you saw how completely all 
hearts were won by his grace and suavity of manner. 
Why shall he not succeed to his father’s state ff the Protes- 
tant interest will only be true to him and their own 
cause ? ” 

“My dear boy, the son of Lucy Walters will never 
become King of England. The great lords would never 
submit to have a man of doubtful birth elevated to the 
rank of their ruler. It is madness to dream of such a 
scheme.” 

“ Yet I am not the only one who looks forward to such a 
result, sir. Monmouth is the idol of the people ; it is confi- 
dently asserted that he can prove the marriage of his 
mother with Charles Stuart, and it is to my interest to 
believe it.” 

“ Poob ! nonsense ! Because the Duke noticed you wdien 
he met you at Lord Stormont’s last year, you think he will 
remember you in time to come. If he were King to-mor- 
row, he would act precisely as the rest of his race have 
done: cast iuto oblivion the services of those who elevated 
him to the throne, and conciliate the malcontents by lavish- 
ing upon them all he would have to bestow.” 

“You did not hear him talk with me, father, so I pardon 
you for judging him so harshly. Monmouth is the most 
gallant gentleman, the most graceful knight in the land, 
and I have vowed homage to him in my heart. Besides, he 
distinctly promised to remember our losses in the days of 


MYSTERIES AND JEALOUSIES. 55 

his grandfather, and repair them, if the power ever should 
he his” 

11 Ha ! that was going very far upon the road to royalty 
indeed. He surely then aspires to succeed his father, and 
he begins his machinations by tampering with the young 
and enthusiastic to engage them in his cause. The people 
would doubtless be glad to have a Protestant ruler, but 
Monmouth is not the man. If they refuse to accept James, 
the succession will still remain unbroken, and the Princess 
of Orange will be the one on whom their choice will fall.” 

“The Princess of Orange is scarcely known in this 
country, and the Duke is adored by the masses of the peo- 
ple. You will see, sir, that on the death of King Charles a 
rising will take place in his favor, and he will triumphantly 
be proclaimed King of England.” 

“ Even if he should be wrong-headed enough to suffer 
such a thing to be done, Monmouth will never reign in 
Whitehall as monarch of this land. With his father dies 
all his prestige, and his cold-hearted uncle will not hesitate 
to sacrifice him to his own safety. The king has turned 
his head by permitting him to assume the honors of a 
prince of the blood, but the son of the Welsh girl is still 
regarded as an inferior by the great lords, and not one of 
them will rally to his standard if he should be mad enough 
to raise it in rebellion against his uncle.” 

“ Then let him do as Cromwell did before him : crush out 
their opposition, and rule by the right of his genius.” 

" Yernor, you talk like a very young and inexperienced 
man. Do you suppose this court-gallant, with his effemi- 
nate beauty, his fascination of manner, is fitted to run the 
career of the old Ironsides captain ? I tell you that but 
one Cromwell is found among many generations of men, 
and such as he are not the offspring of a feeble and vicious 
race like that from which your hero is descended. If the 


66 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


old Tudor lioness could have cut off the head of James I, as 
well as that of his mother, it would have been a blessing to 
this land.” 

“Why, father, this is strange language to come from the 
lips of a staunch old royalist, who fought and suffered in 
the cause of these very Stuarts.” 

“For that reason I more deeply feel all their ingratitude 
and incapacity. They are a thoroughly selfish set of pleas- 
ure seekers, who care for nothing beyond the enjoyment of 
the hour. Therefore, if the question of a change of rulers 
is forced upon this people, they will have none of them.” 

“Yet you said but now that in the event- of a revolution 
the Princess of Orange would become queen.” 

“Nominally, but her husband will wield the royal author- 
ity. There is a man who may be placed side by side with 
old Noll, and lose nothing by the comparison. I have lived 
long, and in this dull retirement I have little to do but 
watch the progress of events, and draw my own conclusions 
from the signs of the times. They are adverse to the 
interests of your hero. A carpet-knight like Monmouth is 
not the man for the hour.” 

“Why should you call him a carpet-knight?” said Ver- 
nor, impetuously. “ I am sure he has shown courage and 
ability in military life ; he has already served with honor.” 

“Aye, under the command of others, but as a leader, 
those who place their trust in him will find that they have 
but rushed upon their own destruction. No, my son ; put 
aside this fantastic preference for a man who has won you 
over by a little judicious flattery, and abide the issue of 
events, at least till you are old enough to take a decided 
course of action.” 

“Well, Sir Hugh, that is easily promised, for the king is 
strong and healthy, and bids fair to give his son no chance 
to try his popularity for many years to come.” 


JEALOUSIES AND MYSTERIES. 


57 


Vernor sank into silence, and Sir Hugh pondered on the 
affairs of the country. There was no reason to apprehend 
that the life of Charles would be suddenly cut short, for he 
was comparatively young, and enjoyed seemingly- robust 
health ; but in the event of his death, there was every 
probability of a struggle for the crown between the son and 
brother of the present monarch. 

The Duke of Monmouth had been permitted to bear the 
arms of England and France upon his escutcheon without 
the bar sinister which denoted his illegitimate birth, and it 
was widely believed among the common people that a cere- 
mony of marriage had taken place at the Hague between 
the king and his mother. 

Those who knew Charles Stuart in middle age, found it 
easy to believe that in the levity of youth, with his future 
prospects uncertain, he would have been quite capable of 
committing such an act to win a woman of whom he was 
passionately enamored. He permitted her son to assume 
the state of Prince of Wales, though the title was not con- 
ferred on him. The populace took the deepest interest in 
Monmouth, as the champion of the Protestant religion, and 
fondly regarded him as the rightful heir to the throne. 

When he arrived in London at midnight, the watchmen 
were ordered to proclaim the joyful event throughout the 
city, and the streets were illuminated in his honor, while the 
bells rang out a joyous peal of welcome. When he travelled 
he was everywhere received with most enthusiastic demon- 
strations ; long cavalcades of armed gentlemen came out to 
escort him, and cities poured forth their masses to join in 
the ovation. 

The personal popularity of the young Duke was unbound- 
ed, for he inherited the rare beauty of his mother, with the 
grace and fascination of manner which rendered his father 
popular among all classes in spite of bis maladministration 
of the government. 


58 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Thus encouraged to aspire to royal honors, what could be 
expected but that Monmouth should, in time to come en- 
deavor to grasp the sceptre when it fell from the hands of its 
present ruler? James was dreaded by the people of Eng- 
land, and it was confidently anticipated by the friends of 
Monmouth that the Protestants would throng to the sup- 
port of their champion when the hour of strife arrived. 

Sir Hugh thought, with a shudder, that he might live 
to witness another civil war as deadly and long-protracted 
as that which had desolated his country in the days of his 
youth. Then he was a dashing cavalier, ready to support the 
king at all hazards ; now, the change of parties had placed 
him in opposition to the government, and like most of his 
class, he had become a strong Whig, though he wisely took 
little part in political disputes, and lived quietly upon his 
diminished acres, contented to be left to vegetate in peace. 

But the day was coming in which his young and high- 
spirited son must take his part in the arena of life, and for 
him he dreaded a false move in the complicated game he 
would probably have to play. Sir Hugh had no scruples of 
attachment or integrity which would have led him to hesitate 
in any course that promised success. To reinstate his house 
was the darling wish of his heart, and Vernor had been 
trained to look to that as the chief aim of his existence. 
Although he had spoken so sensibly to his son, if Fate yet 
showed a smiling face to Monmouth’s cause, the facile baro- 
net would certainly be among the first to embrace it. 

Suddenly Vernor spoke : 

“ When do you propose tcf send Gerald to Oxford, sir ? I 
believe he has chosen to be a learned drone, in place of a 
man of action.” 

His sneering tone caused Sir Hugh to look up at him 
with an expression of surprise. 

“ Has any ill feeling arisen between you and your cousin 
that you speak of him thus ? n 


JEALOUSIES AND MYSTERIES. 


59 


“No — not exactly that; but I am tired of his airs of supe- 
riority. His tastes lead him to book lore ; mine to field 
sports, and we have managed to get along together without 
much clashing ; but if he is to do anything in life, it is time 
he was setting about it. Besides, I know he is impatient to 
enter college, where he anticipates winning great honors. 
For myself, I care nothing for such learned lumber; a strong 
hand, a quick eye, and the will to use them, will be the keys 
to success in the days that are coming. If, as the Gipsy 
prophesied, Gerald is to be crowned with honors and good 
fortune, I am resolved to be equally crowned with pleasure 
and renown.” 

“ Ho, then you are jealous of the good foretold to your 
cousin. But it is idle to believe in what that old beldame 
said. She knows no more of the future than ether you or I, 
and she indulged an old spite in irritating you against your 
kinsman.” 

“ Spite ! who is she, sir, and why should she feel it toward 
me ? for I do not remember ever seeing her before.” 

“ But you had threatened her. and that was enough to 
arouse her gipsy blood against you.” 

“ You spoke of an old spite, sir, and that I could not have 
caused.” 

“ Did I ? — well, the word was inadvertently used ; for 
she can do you no harm, unless you give her the power your- 
self, by seeking her, or falling under her influence in some 
way.” 

“ Then give me the clue to the Secret Chamber and I 
promise to keep clear of her. But if you refuse to do this, I 
cannot say what the result will be.” 

At this cool assertion, Sir Hugh felt inclined to fall into 
one of his tornadoes of passion, but the calm and resolute 
face before him assured him that the day had passed in which 
Yernor could be terrified into submission by an outburst of 


60 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


anger. He felt assured that this daring spirit would 
penetrate the mystery of that secluded spot, and all that 
remained for him to do was to gain sufficient time to remove 
from it the ghastly evidence of what had happened there. 

He curbed his wrath, and said : 

“ Wait till I recover, and I will myself show you the way 
to the chamber as soon as I am in a condition to do so. 
Only keep clear of the gipsy’s camp, and do not seek to 
meddle with them in any way, and your curiosity shall be 
fully gratified.” 

‘‘Thank you, sir; I can easily promise the last, for I do 
not care to encounter that old beldame again. She regarded 
me with a most sinister expression, and I cannot help think- 
ing she would be glad to do me an evil turn.” 

“ The world is wide enough to hold you both without your 
coming in contact with each other. If jmu regard my wishes, 
you will seek to do so. If this woman or her son should 
cross your path, I desire that you will let them pass upon 
their way, and hold no communion with them.” 

Yernor listened with an appearance of respect, but the 
very anxiety of Sir Hugh to impress upon him the necessity 
of avoiding the Gipsy only increased his desire to fathom 
the cause of his father’s evident discomposure at her appear- 
ance. It cost him little to promise, but keeping his pledge 
was quite another thing. He compromised with his con- 
science by thinking that he would not absolutely seek an 
interview with her, but if chance offered him one, he would 
use his utmost ingenuity to discover the secret tie that exist- 
ed between two persons whose worldly positions were so 
widely severed. He again recurred to Gerald : 

“ You have not answered my question with reference to 
my cousin, sir; when does he go to college, and how is he 
to be supported there ? for that seems to me to be a question 
of vital importance.” 


MYSTERIES AND JEALOUSIES. 


61 


“ He will go when I see fit to send him,” replied Sir 
Hugh, testily, “ and the money his mother has hoarded 
from her annuity since she has been with me, will enable 
him to live there. When his college course is ended, an 
old friend of his father, who is a lawyer in good practice, 
will receive him without the usual fee. Gerald may some 
day become my Lord Chancellor; the lad has good abilities, 
and he is industrious ; two very powerful levers to help a 
man forward in life, and he may aid to bring the old name 
into notice again.” 

“ You seem proud of your nephew’s talents, Sir Hugh,” 
said Vernor, with a sneer. “Perhaps j T ou regret that fate 
had not given you such a son in place of a wild, sport-lov- 
ing roysterer like myself.” 

“No, Vernor, I am satisfied with you, for you are of the 
true, high-mettled old stock. I do not compare you with 
this quiet lad, whose meek spirit accords with his humble 
fortunes. I only hope that in the path Gerald has chosen he 
will achieve distinction for the sake of the family from 
which he sprung. But you are the heir of the old name 
and honors, and you must play a more brilliant game than 
your cousin would dare to attempt. You are handsome, and 
have education enough ; with a little polishing, you can 
become as great a gallant as I once was. You must win an 
heiress, and make her fortune the stepping-stone to greater 
successes.” 

Vernor smiled disdainfully. 

“The heiress must be handsome, or I'll none of her. I 
shall not sell mj’self to a fright for a bag of money.” 

“ Pooh ! there are plenty of pretty and attractive women 
who possess wealth. But it will be time enough to look up 
one when j’ou are a few years older. In the meantime, if I 
could afford to let you travel on the continent a few years, it 
would be a great advantage to you. Then, you might 


62 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


return home an accomplished man of the world, and select a 
wife from the fairest and richest of English girls. But my 
income has narrowed down until I see no prospect of accom- 
plishing so desirable an end.” 

“If you had hoarded for me, sir, as my aunt seems to 
have done for her son, I might have possessed the means of 
making this tour.” 

Sir Hugh flushed purple, and said with excitement : 

“We were very differently situated. Mrs. Methurn has 
been at very little expense here, while I have used my means 
to maintain the poor state in which we live. Do not fling a 
reproach at my early prodigality, boy ; for I will not bear it. 
If I have wrecked your fortune with my own, I have wit 
enough to help you to reconstruct it, if you will he guided 
by my advice.” 

“ So far as it tallies with my own judgment I promise to 
do so,” replied Vernor, coolly. “ I did not intend to reproach 
you, sir; for you have been a very indulgent father to me, 
and I know that I have often proved a sad scapegrace of a 
son. We have at least one common interest — the aggrand- 
izement of our fallen family ; and I am quite ready to do 
anything that is reasonable to restore the tarnished lustre 
of its fortunes.” 

“Bight, lad; and we shall find the means, he sure of 
that.” 

“I hope so, sir,” replied Vernor, as he arose to retire. 
“But just now my most lively interest is in your restoration 
to your usual activity, for my curiosity to visit the secret 
chamber will be on the alert till it is gratified. I shall think 
of, dream of nothing but that mysterious spot till I have 
explored it and learned all its gloomy history.” 

He passed out with a cheerful good night, and Sir Hugh 
sank back on his chair muttering with pale lips : 

“ All — all ! The last record must be kept from your 


MYSTERIES AND JEALOUSIES. 


63 


knowledge at all hazards. Oh, curses on the imbecility that 
made me a villain ! Curses on the waste of health and life 
that have made me the wreck I am ! Why can I not go to 
that den of horrors and see for myself what blasting evi- 
dence of my crime remains to witness against me to my 
son, to her son, of the sad fate I gave his mother ? ” 

Sir Hugh fell into one of his impotent rages, and on the 
unoffending servant who came in to assist him to his own 
apartment the burden of his wrath fell. John was accus- 
tomed to such outbursts, and he bore his master’s vitupera- 
tion in sullen silence ; for, in his present mood, the man 
knew that Sir Hugh would bear no reply to his maledic- 
tions. 

After he was in bed, Mrs. Methurn came in and mixed 
his night-draught. There was something in her calm face 
and serene manner which always checked the old man in his 
fiercest outbursts of temper, and he repressed his oaths and 
took the medicine in silence. As she was leaving him he 
said in a rough voice : 

“Agnes, tell Gerald that he may set out for Oxford as 
soon as things can be made ready for his departure.” 

f* Thank you, Sir Hugh. My son will be glad to hear 
this news, for he is losing time here, and we have been 
awaiting your decision several weeks.” 

“ Then why the d — 1 couldn’t you speak out before this ? ” 
“I thought you fully understood our wishes, Sir Hugh. 
You know that it is two months since my son was declared 
by his tutor fit to enter college.” 

“ His tutor ! the beggarly parson with his Greek and 
Latin rubbish, is a great judge, to be sure ! But it’s none 
of my business. If it is your will and the boy’s wish, he 
must go; although I never expected a Methurn to become 
an attorney’s apprentice. But I suppose it is the best the 
lad can do.” 


64 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ It is the only path open to him, and I am very grateful 
to Mr. Clyde for his liberal offer,” was the quiet response. 
‘‘Gerald is anxious to make his wav in life in some honora- 
ble calling, and that of the law will give scope to the abili- 
ties I believe he possesses.” 

“Umph! I only hope he may show them, that’s all. 
But it will be many a long year before he can expect to win 
his bread. All your savings will go, and more too.” 

“ I have hoarded them for this purpose, and if they were 
many times as great I would cheerfully devote them to it. 
The ultimate success of my dear boy will reward me for 
every sacrifice.” 

“ If he wins — if he wins ; but that has to be tried yet. 
Good night — I believe I have a fever with all this cursed 
excitement. I must be quiet — and there is no use in talk- 
ing half the night about what is already settled.” 

Mrs. Methurn smiled faintly, and, thus unceremoniouslj r 
dismissed, returned to the apartment in which she had 
left Gerald and Ethel. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 

The long low-ceiled sitting-room, with its walls of carved 
oak, was dimly lighted by a single candle placed on a heavy 
table in the centre of the highly polished floor. Beside 
this sat Gerald Methurn and the little girl engaged in con- 
ning the same book; or, rather, Gerald was reading aloud 
in a clear, well modulated voice, and Ethel was looking over 
the page with kindling eyes and half-parted lips as she lis- 
tened to the stanzas of the Fairy Queen. 


THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 65 


“Oh, Gerald ! I wish you were a poet!” exclaimed the 
child, as he closed the book and turned his smiling face 
toward her. 

“That I might make Ethel and her pet fawn as celebrated 
as the heavenly Nina, and her milk-white lamb? Ah, 
Lady-Bird, my destiny is to burrow among the mouldy 
parchments of law, not to cover them with my own dreamy 
fancies and quaint conceits.” 

“ Must you, indeed, go from us ? Eirst to college, and 
then to London to live only among books, and old papers? 
What shall I do when you are gone ? ” 

He smiled faintly as he replied : 

“ You, oh you will find enough to do. You will learn to 
make pickles and preserves from my good mother ; how to 
make gooseberry wine and broth for the poor ; besides all 
the mysteries of needle-work. Yernor will teach you to ride 
after the hounds, and my uncle will give you a chance to 
become a capital nurse.” 

“But there will be no one to direct my studies, no one to 
read with me ; and when we meet again I shall be ashamed 
of my ignorance.” 

“ The Dominie has promised to fill my place ; the old books 
will still be here, and I hope you will not lose all interest 
in them when your fellow-student is gone. As for me, your 
bright little face will oft rise before me, and I know I shall 
yearn to see it smiling near me again.” 

“Will you, indeed, dear Gerald? But you will become 
estranged from us, I am afraid. This dull, old house has 
not much to bring you back to it again.” 

“ It will contain my dear mother and my sweet, little pet,” 
he playfully replied. u It has been my home for many years, 
and must ever be the dearest spot on earth to me. But I 
have my fortune to make, and I must stifle all regrets and 
give my heart to my studies. You shall be proud of me yet, 
4 


66 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Ethel ; and when I have won the meed of success, those I 
love shall share my triumphs. When I become a great 
law lord, I will live in grand style, and have you and my 
mother to stay always with me.” 

“ That will be charming. Your mother is mine now, and 
I don’t intend ever to leave her. But, Gerald, will you be 
obliged to cover your beautiful hair with a great curled 
wig, like that on the picture of Chancellor Bacon in the 
library ? ” 

“ Yes, I suppose so— it is considered dignified ; and when 
I win the right to wear a wig, I shall think myself upon the 
sure road to fortune.” 

“ But I shall always like you best with your own soft rings 
of hair that I have so often curled around my fingers.” 

“ Yet when I become bald and gray the wig you object to 
will be quite acceptable,” and he laughed gaily at the dis- 
mayed expression of her face. 

“ Oh dear ! will you ever grow fat and red, like Sir Hugh, 
with shaggy gray hair hanging around your face. I am 
afraid I shouldn’t love you as well as I do now if that were 
to happen.” 

“ I am sure you’re very fond of Sir Hugh, in spite of his 
appearance, Ethel. My uncle was once considered a very 
handsome man, but bad health and the inactive life he has 
led of late years have sadly changed him.” 

“ Yes,” she dubiously replied, “I love him because he let 
me stay at the Priory when my mother died ; and I would 
do anything he asked me to do, to prove my gratitude to 
him.” 

“ Bight, little one ; cherish gratitude, for it is a sacred 
feeling. I believe that my uncle is as much interested now 
in your welfare as if you were his own daughter; and I do 
not think he will ever ask you to do anything which will 
not promote your happiness.” 


THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 67 


Ethel, a thoughtful child, matured by suffering beyond 
her years, pondered on these words, and not long afterward, 
in a momentous crisis of her life, suffered them deeply to 
influence her decision. 

Before she could reply, Mrs. Methurn entered, and kissing 
the forehead of her son, announced to him his uncle’s wish 
that preparations should at once be made for his departure 
from the Priory. Gerald heard the news with delight ; he 
was eager to escape to a wider field of action, and with the 
consciousness that his own exertions must win him a posi* 
tion, he was impatient of delay that involved the loss of time 
which was all-important to him. His exuberant joy was 
checked by the cloud upon his mother’s brow, and he sud- 
denly said : 

“I am selfish, mother, to think only of myself; you will 
miss me sadly, I know, but you must console yourself for my 
absence with the thought that I am profitably using every 
moment of my time, and striving to win the right to have 
you always near me. 7 ’ 

“Alas, my son, it must be many years before that can 
be accomplished ; but I give you up cheerfully. I have 
confidence in your principles, and I know that such success 
as industry and talent may win must in time be yours. I 
can wait and hope, and my darling Ethel will help to con- 
sole me for your absence.” 

Ethel nestled to her side, and laid her soft cheek against 
Mrs. Methurn’s, as she whispered : 

“ I am your daughter — I have no mother but you, and I 
love you dearly.” 

The tender hope that she would really become ber daugh- 
ter at some future day had long been cherished by Mrs. 
Methurn, but she was too judicious to betray her wishes, 
and she only caressed her protegee in reply. The child sat 
quiet and attentive while the mother and son communed of 


68 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the future. She entered so completely into all their feelings 
that neither of them thought of her as an intruder on the 
sacredness of that hour devoted to maternal counsels and 
filial submission to the gentle and pure woman who had de- 
voted so many years of her life to the training and develop- 
ment of the immortal spirit given to her charge. 

At a late hour they separated, and within the next week 
Gerald took his departure from the home in which he had so 
long lived. Sir Hugh gave him much friendly advice as to 
the best means of rising in life, and furnished him with a 
few letters of introduction to such of his old friends as he 
thought might be able to advance his interests. Yernor 
shook hands with him, and said, with a laugh : 

“ Well, counsellor, if I should ever get into a scrape with 
the powers that be, I hope you will have skill and courage 
to help me out of it. Success to you, old fellow ; and the 
best thing I can wish for you is, that you may never have to 
come back to this tumble-down old concern again.” 

“ I should be very ungrateful if I did not return of my 
own free will,” replied Gerald. “ Do not fancy that you are 
altogether quit of me, Yernor; for I shall seize every oppor- 
tunity to revisit the old place. Should you get into trouble, 
count on me as your fast friend in every emergency.” 

“ Thank you ; but I know if my wings ever bear me be- 
yond these sylvan shades, it will be long enough before I 
permit them to bring me back again.” 

Yernor turned away with a light laugh, and the departing 
one was clasped to his mother’s breast in a long and close 
embrace, while Ethel clung to his hand, which she kissed 
and covered with her fast flowing tears. 

Gerald went, and with him the light of at least two hearts 
in that secluded household. Sir Hugh scarcely missed him, 
and Yernor was glad that he was gone. A restraint was 
removed from himself which he was well pleased to shake 


THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 69 


off, for many of his actions were disapproved of by his cousin 
and frankly commented on by him when they were alone 
together. Mingled with a secret respect for his kinsman 
was a scarcely acknowledged jealousy of his superior attain- 
ments, though Vernor would make no effort to emulate 
them. 

Sir Hugh was recovering slowly, and his son endeavored 
to check his impatience to visit the spot which had so strongly 
interested his imagination. A growing desire to see and 
converse with the Gipsy at length prevailed over every scru- 
ple, and Vernor, on the day of Gerald’s departure, mounted 
his horse, whistled his dogs to his side, and took the direc- 
tion of the beech-wood, in which he knew the encampment 
was still to be found. 

He soon came in sight of the little dell, in which a few 
rude tents were standing that now seemed to be almost desert- 
ed. An old crone, with several children playing around her, 
sat near the embers of the smouldering tire over which their 
breakfast had been cooked. She glanced sharply up at the 
sound of approaching hoofs, and precipitately arose as one of 
the dogs bounded toward her fiercely barking. The child- 
ren scrambled beneath the shelter of a neighboring tent, 
and the young man called to his dogs to return to his side. 
As they obeyed, the woman resumed her former position, 
a-nd said in a wheedling tone: 

“ You honor wouldn’t harm a poor old woman and these 
helpless children. The men are all away, and we are here 
without protection.” 

“ I have no business with you, and no desire to interfere 
with you in any way,” he curtly replied. “ I shall merely 
ride around the encampment and return whence I came. 
Why should you suppose that I would suffer my dogs to 
hurt you ? ” 

“ We’ve heard that you’ve threatened to harry us, but I 


TO 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


don’t believe that such a fine handsome gentleman would 
do such a thing. Let me tell your fortune, sir. Such as 
you should have a brave future.” 

Vernor turned proudly away as he replied : 

“ No, thank you. I have had enough of gipsy fortune 
telling. I will hear nothing from you.” 

He put spurs to his horse and dashed rapidly away ; the 
crone lifted herself to her full hight, and, raising her hand 
menacingly, muttered : 

“ Go — and take my malediction with you, for a proud and 
hard-hearted one, as you are. My curse never yet failed to 
fall, and it shall blight you yet for grudging the wanderers 
the spot of ground on which we camp, and the few hares we 
may snare. A brave descendant of the true old cavaliers you 
prove yourself to be.” 

Vernor rode furiously forward; he was in one of those 
reckless moods in which men. often commit acts which are 
afterward bitterly repented of. Suddenly the bridle of his 
horse was seized by a figure which sprang from a thicket in 
the dense portion of the woodland through which his path 
lay. 

Without pausing to see why his way was thus obstructed, 
he lashed his whip violently over the head of the man, and, 
using a volley of expletives, commanded him loose his hold 
upon his rein. The dogs, which had lagged in the rear, now 
came bounding toward them baying loudly, and the man 
made an effort to retreat toward the thicket, but he stumb- 
led and fell, and the next instant the hounds would have 
been upon him, but the Gipsy Queen, wearing the same 
dress in which Vernor had before seen her, strode suddenly 
forward and threw herself before his prostrate form. 

“Call off these brutes!” she commanded, with flashing 
eyes, and dilating nostrils; “if they harm a hair of his head, 
it shall be the worse for you, young heir of Methurn ! It 


THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 71 

is enough that your blows have fallen upon him, without 
being torn by your dogs. He but obeyed ray command to 
stop you, that I might speak with you, and this is his 
reward ! ” 

Yernor obeyed the command, for he had no wish to enrage 
the Gipsy; she might be of use to him ; and he lashed the 
hounds from the prostrate form on which they were ready to 
bound. He was pale with auger and excitement, but he re- 
strained the expression of his wrath before the commanding 
mien and savage eye of the woman ; for they exerted over 
him a power which he could not resist. 

When the clamor subsided, he asked : 

“ Why did you not step forward yourself? I should have 
recognized you, and stopped to speak with you.” 

“To what end?” she asked. “What can the young 
lord of the manor have to say to the poor wanderer who tar- 
ries for a season beneath the shelter of his woodland ? Sir 
Hugh would have forbidden the meeting, if he had been 
aware that it was likely to take place.” 

“ Why should you suppose so ? Is there any reason why 
my father should fear a meeting between you and me ? ” 

“ Ho ! ho ! go and ask him. Did he not bid you leave 
me and my tribe alone ? Did he not warn you to keep far 
from us? You need not speak, young sir; your face 
replies legibly enough to my question. Yes — I knew be 
would utter such a command ; but you are his true son — 
disobedient and reckless ; ready to rush on — you know not 
what.” 

“ You speak as if there is danger to me in seeking you,” 
said Vernor, disdainfully. “ I brave it, if there is; such as 
you can work me no evil.” 

The woman defiantly replied : 

“ Lowly as I am, deeply as you scorn me, you shall yet 
feel my grasp upon your fate, Vernor Methurn. Vernor! 


72 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


—detested name! I crushed one who bore it in her palmy 

days, and I will Yet no; threats are idle. Go your 

way, young man. At another day your path and mine shall 
cross, aud then you shall know why I hate you.” 

“ But I would know it now; there is no time like the 
present ; and if you have anything to say, speak it out. 
Why should my name inspire you with such tierce anger? 
and to whom do you refer ? My mother was the only one 
who bore it in this part of the country.” 

“ Aye ; but England is a broad land, and the name may 
be found elsewhere, I trow,” replied the Gipsy, evasively. 
“Ride back as you came, and do not tell Sir Hugh that you 
have talked with me.” 

While they were speaking, the man had risen and shaken 
the dust from his garments, and he stood glaring on Vernor 
with an expression of ferocious enmity. He was tall and 
strongly made, and his fingers worked nervously upon the 
handle of a knife, which was thrust into a red sash which 
he wore around his waist. His long hair fell in elf locks 
about his face, from which gleamed his wild black eyes with 
an expression that made the visitor almost shrink ; for in 
them was the light of passion, the power of brute force, 
without the steady light of reason which should hold them 
under control. 

A thrill almost of apprehension shot through Vernor’s 
heart as he encountered this baleful glance, and felt that he 
had incurred the hatred of this lawless-looking being. He 
said : 

t( Who is this man ? and why does he scowl thus vindic- 
tively upon me ?” 

“ Have you not laid the weight of your riding whip upon 
him, and when is such an insult as that forgiven by one of 
our race ? Yet fear not — my son shall not resent the blow 
till the time arrives for full and perfect retribution.” 


THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 73 


She turned toward the man and spoke a few words to him 
in a jargon which was unintelligible to Vernor, and he sul- 
lenly withdrew beneath the cover of the thicket. 

The woman waved her hand, and turned as if to follow 
him, but the youth spoke quickly arid impetuously : 

“ Stay — I came hither to speak with you, for I wish to 
ask you the solution of the strange words you used to my 
father when you came to the Priory last week. I am aware 
of the existence of the Secret Chamber, and Sir Hugh has 
promised himself to conduct me to it ; but he is too intirm 
to visit it, and if you will show me the entrance to it I 
will reward you well for the service.” 

The woman paused, and incredulously asked : 

11 Has he told you all? Yet no, he would not dare. 
Since you know that such a place exists, find your way to it 
yourself, young sir. /shall not take you there, be sure of 
that.” 

w Then you have been there ; you are familiar with the 
place, yet refuse to be my guide. Here is gold — see how it 
glistens through the meshes of my purse ; I will give it all 
to you if you will conduct me to the spot I have so great a 
desire to explore.” 

u It is an idle wish, and its fulfilment would work you wo. 
Since Sir Hugh will take you there himself, bide his time. 
Let him tell his own story ; for the present 1 shall not con- 
tradict it.” 

“ Yet 3 *ou wished to see me; you sent your son to inter- 
cept me. Why should } T ou have done this if you had noth- 
ing to say to me ? ” 

“I had much to say, but I have changed my mind. I 
would have spoken of my son to you ; would have told you 
who and what he is, but you have struck him, and the tie 
that might have existed between you is forever broken. He 
will now accept no service at your hands, and I warn you 


/ 


74 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


that no more implacable enemy lives than yon have this day 
made. Go — your gold does not tempt me ; your entreaties 
are powerless upon a will as immovable as a rock of ada- 
mant.” 

Vernor impatiently spurred his horse and whistled to his 
dogs; he saw from the hard expression of the face before 
him that no concession was to be hoped for, and he dashed 
impetuously through the windings of the narrow road. 

Minchen smiled grimly, and muttered : 

“ Ho ! Sir Hugh will take you to the Secret Chamber, 
will he ? Then he must first go thither himself to prepare 
it for inspection, and I will have it ready for his reception. 
A bonnie welcome to that prison-house shall he meet when 
he hobbles there to see what proofs of his crime are left. 
Now I must seek Melchoir, and see what can be done to 
tame him again.” 

She plunged into the thicket, and after advancing a few 
yards, came upon an open space in the centre of which cow- 
ered her son, with his knife grasped in his hand, which he 
was digging furiously into the earth. He looked up at her 
and hoarsely said : 

" I wish it was his heart — I do — I do. I will yet strike 
it into his vitals for the blows he gave me. I could have 
done it but now, but you bade me hold my hand when I was 
ready to spring upon him.” 

“Softly, Melchoir' — that blustering youngster is the son 
of your father, and it is not well to shed kindred blood.” 

“ My father — I have no father. He who struck me is 
the son of the woman who supplanted you — of the man that 
wronged you, then why shall I forbear towards him ? His 
blows shall bear bitter fruit for him. Is it not enough that 
he has usurped my heritage, but he must load me with 
blows and contumely. Ah ! he shall deeply rue the events 
of this day.” 


THE GIPSY QUEEN AND HER SON. 75 


“ All in good time, my son. Only follow my counsels 
and you shall have vengeance upon him.” 

“But why shall I wait? Why shall I not wreak my 
will upon him now? He would be as a child in my grasp, 
yet his blows tingle and burn upon my flesh ; they rankle in 
my heart, which is seething as a caldron over a blazing fire, 
yet you bade me hold my hand.” 

“ And for good reasons, Melchoir. A brawl between you 
and young Methurn, in which he was seriously injured, 
would lead to ruin to our tribe. The bloodhounds of the law 
would seize upon us and drag us to prison where we might 
rot without a trial, or be brought out only to be mocked with 
the forms of justice before being strung up like dogs. Ho, 
no, boy, such as we cannot cope with the gentry of the coun- 
try, except through our subtlety and wit. You have not 
much of either, poor fellow, and you must submit to be 
guided by me.” 

Melchoir raised his hand to his head, and parting the hair 
from his scalp laid bare a long scar. He bitterly said: 

“If I have little wit, it was this that caused it and whose 
hand dealt the blow that shattered my brain ? What do I 
owe him but wrong and wretchedness? Yet you speak of 
him as my father.” 

Something of softness come into the woman’s face as she 
ran her fingers over the scar, and she muttered : 

“ Poor lad — it was a cruel blow and you were such a little 
creature then ; but he had been drinking, Melchoir, and he 
scarcely knew who he struck at. He was deeply grieved, 
and he paid the leech that tended you till you were out of 
danger. In those days Hugh Methurn would not have hurt 
my child if he had been in his right mind. Ho, no, he 
loved me then — he loved me.” The voice arose almost to a 
wail as she uttered the last words, and the wild being beside 
her glared on her with an expression of vindictive anger, as 
he said : 


" His love was never worth much, yet you seem to regret 
it. He has worked you evil enough to crush out all mem- 
ory of his passing passion, yet you cling to its memory as if 
it had proved a blessing instead of a curse.” 

“ It is the one bright spot in my life, and why shall I 
not sometimes turn to it?” she vaguely asked. “But for 
the results of that heedless blow, I might, I would have 
made you his heir. I held him under my influence ; he 
was proud of your intelligence, and your childish beauty. 
His lands are not entailed ; he would have settled them ou 
you ; but from that unhappy day, you turned from him with 
such evident dislike, that he became estranged from you; 
he ceased to seek me, and sought a wife among the rich and 
proud. He found one to her bitter wo, for I tempted him 
to evil against her ; I avenged her rivalry. Oh, yes, that 
score is settled, and now ” 

Her voice died away and she rocked herself to and fro, 
absorbed in thoughts which gradually brought back the 
baleful fire to her eyes, the hard and vindictive expression 
of hatred to her mouth. 

Melchoir put up his knife, and with a bitter laugh, said : 

“ I stay my wrath at your bidding, but the time will 
come when I can strike home with sure aim, and wipe away 
the dishonor that has been put upon me. If you do not 
give me the chance I shall find it myself.” 

“Never fear — I will give it to j-ou. Watch and wait, 
the wild blood of this youth will yet place him in our power, 
and enable us to repay his insults without danger to our- 
selves.” 

Minchen arose, drew her cloak around her and prepared 
to return to the camp. Her son followed her steps, mutter- 
ing and twitching the handle of his knife. He was truly a 
formidable enemy ; a creature reared with the wild instincts 
of his race, with few ideas of responsibility, with the fires 


A WINDFALL. 


77 


of hatred seething in his veins, and a brain partially warped 
by the blow which had been inflicted upon him in a moment 
of drunken anger. 

The boy had attempted to arouse Sir Hugh from sleep as 
he lay overcome with liquor. He struck at him in his blind 
fury, fracturing the skull with the force of the blow. Long 
and dangerous was the illness that followed, and Melchoir 
arose from his sick bed with inextinguishable dislike to the 
author of his sufferings and a mind warped from its original 
promise. The brutal instincts predominated, and he ac- 
knowledged no influence save that which his mother wielded 
over him, and she was hard and ruthless in pursuit of her 
own aims and interests. 


CHAPTER V. 

A WINDFALL. 

The following morning brought with it a communication 
to Sir Hugh which was as welcome as unexpected. A 
letter came to him from Amsterdam which opened a pros- 
pect of carrying out his plans for Vernor from a most unex- 
pected quarter. 

The head of a law firm there thus addressed him : 

“Sir Hugh Methurn: 

“ Sir, — The enclosed papers will show you that your 
young ward, Ethel Clifton, has become the sole legatee of 
the fortune of her mother’s uncle, Josiah Winston, who 
died in this city a few weeks since. 

“ Mr. Winston was long engaged in trade here, and he 
has amassed a considerable fortune which he has uncondi- 


78 the gipsy’s warning. 

tionally bequeathed to his grand-niece. You are named as 
her guardian and trustee, and on the day of her marriage, 
with your approbation, her fortune is to be paid over to her 
husband. 

“ It is advisable to wind up the estate without delay, and 
we think we may congratulate the young lady on coming 
in possession of at least fifty thousand pounds in personal 
property and real estate. Hoping to hear from you at your 
earliest convenience, and that an agent will be sent over to 
see to the settlement of our client’s claims, we are 
“ Respectfully, 

“Hoover & Brother” 

Sir Hugh read and re-read this letter, wondering if any 
man could have been so unsuspicious as to throw the inher- 
itance of his ward so completely in his power. Fifty thou- 
sand pounds was a magnificent fortune in those days, and 
little Ethel w r as really the possessor of all this ! 

He turned over the schedule sent, and found that the 
greater portion of the estate was in ready money, the 
remainder in houses in the city of Amsterdam which 
yielded a handsome sum from their annual rents. 

Among the papers Sir Hugh found a second letter 
addressed to himself, which explained Mr. Winston’s confi- 
dence in him. It was dated a month back, and had evi- 
dently been written from the death-bed of the deceased 
merchant. 

“Sir Hugh Methurn — 

“Although I know nothing personally of you, yet the 
man who stepped forward to the assistance of my unhappy 
niece, who received her orphan child beneath his roof, must 
be eminently worthy of confidence. 

“ I have no near relative save this little girl, and to her 
the earnings of my life must go. Since my health began 


A WINDFALL. 


79 


to fail, I have caused inquiries to be made concerning ray 
brother’s family, and thus I have learned the story of your 
beneficence. That you took the orphan to your heart and 
home, is to me sufficient evidence that you are worthy of 
the trust I repose in you. 

<l Ethel will have an allowance of three hundred pounds 
a year until her marriage. On that event, if she marries 
with your consent, the whole of her fortune will pass into 
the possession of her husband. I do not believe in render- 
ing a woman independent of the protector she herself 
usually chooses, and I believe that you will not permit her 
to bestow herself on one who is unworthy of such confi- 
dence. 

“ With my dying regards to my unknown niece, I conjure 
her to obey the wishes of him who has proved himself her 
friend when she had no other. 

“Josiah Winston.” 

“ What a precious windfall ! ” muttered Sir Hugh. “If 
Vernor will only listen to me now, his fortune is made. 
Eifty thousand pounds to come into his possession on the 
day of his marriage with the heiress, and what is to keep 
them from being married out of hand ? Where lands and 
fortune are at stake, children have often entered into such 
bonds in this country, and then remained at school till they 
reached years of maturity. I’ll do it, and Yernor shall 
travel on the continent while his bride is getting her educa- 
tion.” 

At that moment the steps of his son were heard crossing 
the hall, and Sir Hugh called to him. Yernor came to the 
door of the room and put his head in. 

“ I am engaged for this morning, father, and if you have 
no particular business with me, I wish you would excuse me 
a few hours.” 


80 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ But I have very particular business with you, to which 
everything else must be deferred. Come in and shut the 
door, for I have something to reveal to you which nearly 
affects your future fortunes.” 

Yernor’s curiosity was aroused by these words, and he 
came in, saying : 

“ Oh ! if that’s the game, I can put aside my affairs for 
the present. But what can this wonderful revelation be?” 

“ Read these,” replied Sir Hugh, offering him the letters, 
u and then I will see if your thought tallies with my own.” 

Yernor obeyed, and then returned the letters with an 
expression his father scarcely liked. 

“Well,” he said, “Ethel has become suddenly rich; but 
how does that affect my fortunes ? ” 

“ You are very dull, or you would see that, as her hus- 
band, you can gain possession of the whole of this money.” 

Yernor looked annoyed. 

“ She is but a child, Sir Hugh ; and, before she is old 
enough to marry, I may find a better way of recruiting our 
exhausted finances.” 

“You must be very hopeful, then,” sneered his father. 
“ If Ethel is a child, so much the better for you ; for she 
can have no will of her own to oppose to mine. Your idol, 
Monmouth, was married to Lady Anne Scott while she 
was of tender years, and what is to prevent you from 
following his example ?” 

Yernor started and looked steadily at the speaker. 

“Are you in earnest, Sir Plugh ? Would you make such 
a use of the trust confided to you ? ” 

“ What better use can I make of it than to advance the 
interests of my own son ? We need this money, and it will 
be no wrong to Ethel to secure it in this way. Yon can 
travel, and learn the ways of the world, while your child- 
bride can remain with your aunt till she is old enough to 
assume her position as Lady Methurn.” 


A WINDFALL. 


81 


“But really, Sir Hugh, I do not care particularly for 
Ethel, and she likes my cousin far better than she does me. 
She will develop into a gentle, quiet woman like Aunt 
Agnes ; but the being I shall love must be brilliant and 
dashing, passionate and vivid in her nature. No, Sir 
Hugh, I can never love little Ethel as my wife.” 

“ Believe me, Vernor, the woman you describe would 
make you wretched. I speak from experience, for I have 
loved such a one, and lived to loathe and fear her. Do not 
walk in my footsteps, but grasp the good fortune that has 
been thrust upon you.” 

“ I have heard that you did not live happily with my 
mother; but I was not aware that such feelings had grown 
up between you,” said the young man, with a slight show 
of emotion. 

“Your mother! Oh, no — not to her did I refer. Your 
mother brought me wealth ; but I married her after the 
hey-day of passion was past. We were not happy, and I 
am afraid it was more my fault than hers. Let that pass ; 
it has nothing to do with the matter in hand.” 

“ I am afraid it has, sir; for if I marry Ethel, I shall, in 
my turn, make her miserable. I know that I can never 
love her. She is too sensitive — too refined, to assimilate 
with such as I am. Besides, as I said before, she likes 
Gerald far better than me.” 

Sir Hugh spoke with some passion: 

“Then you are ready to let all this money go to your 
cousin without a struggle to retain it? No wonder he has 
been pronounced the heir to good fortune if.you resign your 
best chances in his favor.” 

Vernor flushed deeply; this was touching him on a tender 
point ; but, after a pause, he said: 

“If I should consent to this arrangement, sir; if Ethel 
can be induced to give me her hand before she is old 
5 


82 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


enough to make a choice for herself ; will it not be a terri- 
ble abuse of the trust her uncle has reposed in you ? I 
need money, and the temptation is great to avail myself of 
this chance to obtain it; but you will be censured for 
getting possession of your ward’s fortune in so irregular a 
manner.” 

“Why should we care for the scandal of others if we are 
well paid for it ? I have already arranged in my own mind 
what is to be done. An agent must be sent to Amsterdam, 
and you shall go thither as the husband of the heiress. 
There will be no difficulty in settling with you in that char- 
acter, and then you can make an extended tour on the con- 
tinent. You may be absent four, or six years if you wish 
it, and return only when your bride is old enough to be 
claimed. This is the only avenue of escape from the fox- 
hunting life you have hitherto led. I believe you have 
ambition, and this is your sole chance to gratify it. The 
child is yielding and easily persuaded. She will grow up 
with the idea that her allegiance is due to you, and she will 
learn to love you.” 

Vernor pondered a few moments and then asked: 

“How much am 1 to sell myself for, Sir Hugh? What 
does the lawyer say is the amount of her fortune ? ” 

“Fifty thousand pounds — a splendid inheritance, by 
Jove ! and, besides, Ethel stands almost in the direct suc- 
cession to her grandfather’s title and estates. She is the 
daughter of the second son, and the eldest is a man of dis- 
sipated habits, who is likely to die unmarried. Think of it! 
She may yet be Viscountess Clifton in her own right, with 
a rent roll of five thousand pounds a year. You’re a fool, 
Vernor, to hesitate a moment.” 

. “ Thank you, sir ; but I am not quite such a simpleton as 

to permit all these chances to fall to Gerald’s lot. I sup- 
pose 1 must make a compromise of taste and feeling and 


A WINDFALL. 


83 


accept the little one as my wife — that is, if she will consent 
to take me.” 

“ I have no fears about that. We can soon win her over ; 
make her a few handsome presents, indulge her fancies for 
a few weeks, and you will gain the ground that Gerald’s 
absence must cause him to lose. I will write to the lawyers 
and tell them that an agent will be sent over shortly, and 
in the meantime you must commend yourself to Ethel that 
she may not be difficult to manage.” 

Vernor arose with a resigned air. 

“ What destiny wills must be submitted to, I suppose ; 
so I shall begin forthwith to play the part of lover to the 
baby heiress. But I say, Sir Hugh, will it not be necessary 
to keep what is going on from Aunt Agnes? Her notions 
are rather rigid, and I fancy she looks on Ethel as her 
peculiar property. It was she who took her, you know, and 
she has had the care of her since she has been with us.” 

Sir Hugh reflected a moment, and then said : 

" There is no need to tell Mrs. Methurn what has hap- 
pened just yet. I will make things straight with her when 
the proper time comes. Curb your impatient temper, Ver- 
nor, and be gentle with the child ; she has a very affection- 
ate nature, and you can easily step into the place Gerald 
lately held. Ethel has long wanted a pony; I saw a beau- 
tiful one a short time ago at Farmer Conway’s that Kate 
has been in the habit of riding. He said he would sell it 
if he could get his price, which is somewhat high, but that 
is of no consequence now. Here is money ; buy it, and 
send to Taunton for the necessary outfit ; and by the way, 
order a hat and plumes for Ethel, and a scarlet habit. That 
will be sure to take her childish fancy.” 

Vernor laughed : 

" You are going into the affair in earnest, sir, and you 
seem to know something of the way to win a woman.” 


84 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ Why should I not, when the sex was once the studj r of 
my life ? They all like pretty things, and as a natural con- 
sequence, they love him best who can give them the most 
of them. A few hundred pounds, judiciously used, will 
make Ethel think you perfectly charming.” 

“ I bow to your experience, Sir Hugh, and take the cue 
you have so obligingly furnished. I shall, as Shakespeare or 
somebody else says, ‘ smile, and smile, and be a villain/ for 
this poor fragile little creature I shall never, never love — I 
shall spend her gold and break her heart, I know before- 
hand.” 

“Oh, well, if such is your resolution, you had better leave 
her to Gerald, for I should be sorry to push my plans to 
that consummation. Ethel may develop into a brilliant 
woman, though she is so retiring as a child. But whatever 
she may be, your cousin will never hesitate to take her and 
her fortune.” 

The reference to Gerald acted as Sir Hugh intended it 
should. Vernor frowned, bit his lips, and decisively said: 

“ I shall not allow Gerald the chance. Let him delve his 
fortunes out of musty parchments ; it is all he aspbes to, 
but I shall secure the one that is ready made to my hand, 
even with the incumbrance of a wife that may prove dis- 
tasteful to me.” 

“ That is setted then ?” 

“Certainly — give me the money, and I will ride over to 
Conway’s at once and make sure of the pony, though I ex- 
pect some black looks from Kate for my pains.” 

“ By the way, that reminds me that Conway told me that 
Kate would accept young Crofts if you would cease j r our 
attentions to her. The father has sense enough to know 
that you have no intention to marry her, but it seems the 
girl thiuks differently. It was very presuming in Kate 
Conway to aspire to become my daughter-in-law, and you 


A WINDFALL. 85 

must have said many absurd things to lead her to form such 
a hope.” 

“Perhaps I have, sir,” replied the young man, indiffer- 
ently; “but yon need have no apprehensions on that score. 
Kate and I have come to an understanding, and she told 
me yesterday that she had accepted Crofts. I promised her 
a bridal present, and the money I shall pay for the pony 
will probably buy her wedding finery.” 

“So much the better. I suppose Kate Conway, with her 
bold black eyes, and flippant tongue, is your ideal of a bril- 
liant woman. Go into the world, Vernor, and see such 
women as I have known, then jmu will blush for your pen- 
chant for the village beauty.” 

“ I shall take your advice, sir. But what if I should see 
there one who will make me wish that the bonds you would 
have me assume could be as lightly cast aside as my passing 
admiration for poor Kate? Such a thing might easily hap- 
pen when my hand is plighted to a baby, and my heart free 
from any preference for my child bride.” 

“ Without the fortune of the child-bride, you will have 
no chance to see them at all, so you must balance one against 
the other, and decide for yourself. I shall not urge you 
further.” 

“There is no need, sir. Necessity has no choice, as you 
perfectly comprehend. Gilded slavery or indigent obscurity 
are the alternatives. I choose the former, and resign myself 
to my fate with the philosophy of a martyr. Hand over the 
quid pro quo, Sir Hugh, and I am awaj r upon my errand.” 

The baronet gave him his purse, and Vernor sauntered 
from the room, lightly humming a cavalier song. He en- 
countered Ethel on the lawn, wearing a large garden hat 
and leading, a pet fawn, which Gerald had given her, by a 
long ribbon attached to his collar. Exercise had flushed her 
cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with animation. Vernor 
regarded her critically, and he thought: 


86 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“She will really be very pretty, but then she is such a 
little creature. I like stately women, and this one is going 
to be a fairy. But what does it matter after all ! The weight 
of her purse will make up for any deficiency in her own 
weight.” 

Ethel threw back her curls and came dancing toward him 
with smiling lips. 

“ Oh, Vernor, I have had such a delightful romp with 
Pitapat. Isn’t that a nice name ? It’s just the sound his 
feet make on the hard road.” 

“ It is a very suitable name, Lady Bird ! and shows that 
you have a nice ear.” 

“ Oh, I didn’t give it to him. Gerald gave him to me, and 
he named him.” 

“ Well, pretty one, I shall not permit Gerald to be the 
only one to make presents to you. I am going to give you 
something better worth having than your spotted fawn, for 
he will soon outgrow his spots, and become a dangerous play- 
mate. My present shall do you some good.” 

The child’s eyes brightened, but she threw her arm over 
her pet’s neck, and said : 

“ This has done me a deal of good, for Aunty says my 
color is brighter since I had Pitapat to run after. But what 
are you going to get for me, Vernor ? I had no idea you 
would ever think enough of me to give me anything.” 

“ Oh ! you’re mistaken there, Ethel. I have always 
thought a great deal of you, but you were so much taken 
up with my cousin, and with your studies, that you had no 
time to notice me. It will be different now Gerald is away, 
and I am going to teach you how to manage a pony of your 
own.” 

She clasped her hands in childish ecstacy : 

“Dear Vernor ! a real, live pony ? Oh ! how delightful. 
Gerald said you would teach me to ride after the hounds ; 


A WINDEALL. 


8T 


but I do not wish to do that ; I should be afraid of breaking 
my neck. But if you give me a pony, perhaps I shall like 
to do it after I get used to riding him.” 

“Yes — no fear of that. You’ve got a flash of spirit in 
you that will come out by and by. You must be very lone- 
ly now Gerald is gone, and I mean to make you my especial 
pet. Don’t you think we shall get along together very 
well?” 

Ethel looked rather doubtful, and she dubiously said : 

“ If you will have patience with me, and not get into 
what old Maud calls your tantrums. You know you flash 
up so quick, and lose your temper, so that — that sometimes 
I am quite afraid of you. Gerald always ” 

“ Never mind Gerald now,” he impatiently broke in. 
“ You need not expect me to be like him, for I do not care 
to imitate him, highly as you appreciate him j but I mean 
to he as patient as Job where you are concerned, for I have 
set my heart on filling my cousin’s place while we are still 
together.” 

“ Dear Yernor, I hope you are not thinking of going too. 
What should we do, with you and Gerald both gone ? ” 

“ Would you really be sorry, Lady Bird, if I were to 
leave you?” he asked, and he looked earnestly into the 
sweet face that was upturned to his. 

“ Oh, so sorry ! Besides, why should you go away ? 
You have not your living to gain, as Gerald has.” 

“ Then you do love me a little bit.” 

“Of course I love you. Are you not my big brother? 
You have vexed me sometimes, hut I always forgave you for 
it, because you know you can’t help getting into a passion 
when anything goes wrong with you ; and I know that I 
am often a sad worry to you. I am a timid little goose, but 
if you will teach me how to use my pony, I will try to he 
more courageous.” 


88 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“That is right; and I promise you to try and restrain 
my quick temper. We will make a mutual compact, Ethel, 
and I shall be sure to keep mine, for I have set my heart 
on rivalling Gerald. I am jealous of your preference for 
my cousin, for I think you a charming little person.” 

The child opened her eyes with surprise at the first com- 
pliment Vernor had ever paid her, and she archly said : 

“What would Kate Conway say if she heard that. She 
was vexed that you danced with me in preference to her on 
May-day.” 

“ I fancy she wouldn’t care much about it, for she is too 
busy fixing for her wedding to think of anything else. 
Don’t you know that she is going to marrv Tom Crofts? ” 

“ And you must wear the willow,” she roguishly said. 
“ Here is a tree convenient — let me bind a spray around 
your hat.” 

“ Do — but I shall wear it, not as a trophy of defeat but a 
promise of victory ; ” and he took off his hat and held it 
toward her, while she twined around it a long willow wreath 
from an immense tree, under the shadow of which they 
stood. In a few seconds the fantastic ornament was adjusted, 
Vernor placed the hat upon his head with a flourish. 

“You have crowned me, Lady Bird, with the symbol of 
hope, rather than of despair. Good morning now, and 
dream of what gifts the good fairy will bring you within 
the next three days. Sir Hugh has opened his heart and 
purse, and ordered a birth-day gift that will be splendid ; 
but I shan’t tell you what it is to be.” 

“How good of Sir Hugh ! Nobody but Aunty and Ger- 
ald ever thought of my birth-day before ; and it’s very kind 
of you and your father to remember that I shall be tea 
years old the ninth of this month.” 

Vernor might truly have told her that he had only 
remembered it himself within the last few moments, and 


A WINDFALL. 


89 


offered it as an excuse for the unusual liberality shown 
toward her ; but he only said : 

“ You must say nothing to my father, Ethel, for he 
wishes to surprise you ; and I should have given you no 
hint of the pretty things in store for you. Sir Hugh has 
adopted you as his daughter, and in future he intends to 
treat you as such.” 

“ He is very kind, and I will try and be a good child to 
him, for, oh! Vernor, if he had not let me stay at the 
Priory, I do not know what would have become of me when 
my poor mamma died.” 

“ Nor I either, for you had no one to take care of you ; 
but if you are obedient, and mindful of Sir Hugh’s wishes, 
he will never repent of his kindness to you. He may ask 
some return from you some day, Ethel, and then you can 
show j T our gratitude.” 

" I will do anything — anything he asks me,” impulsively 
exclaimed the child, with flushed cheeks, and radiant eyes. 

Vernor pinched her cheek, and laughingly said : 

“ That will do. Lady Bird. I see you are in earnest, and 
I will leave the future to develop itself. I must go now 
and bargain for the pony.” 

He blew a kiss to her from the tips of his fingers, and 
left her standing under the old tree lost in a delightful 
reverie. It had long been the darling wish of her heart to 
have a pony of her own, and no gift could have been so wel- 
come to her. Her tastes were simple and natural, but Sir 
Hugh rightly judged that her childish heart could be won 
over by gifts and attentions to which she had been unaccus- 
tomed. 


c 


90 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTEE VI. 

SIR HUGH AND VERNOR OPEN THEIR GAME. 

During the next few weeks of her life, Ethel might have 
believed that she was suddenly endowed with a fairy god- 
mother, whose chief pleasure it was to minister to her pecu- 
liar fancies. The pony, a beautiful bay, with a skin like 
satin, and long flowing mane plaited with scarlet ribbons 
bearing a saddle with embroidered housings of the same 
color, and gaily decorated bridle, was led to the door on her 
birth-day morning ; at the same hour a mysterious box made 
its appearance in her room, from which was drawn a com- 
plete outfit for the young equestrian. A fine cloth habit, 
embroidered with gold, and a cap with long white plumes 
floating to her shoulders. There was also a small riding- 
whip, with an inlaid handle, and a pair of fairy gauntlets, 
ornamented to match the dress. 

The wild delight of the child as each article was succes- 
sively exhibited, amused and surprised Mrs. Methurn ; she 
said : 

“ These are beautiful gifts, Ethel ; but I am afraid Sir 
Hugh must have taxed his means to afford them. I begin 
to think, my dear, that the material things to which I have 
sought to render you indifferent, have great power to give 
you happiness.” 

“ Yes,” replied Ethel, frankly. " These presents make 
me very happy, and I should be the most ungrateful of 
creatures if they did not. But I hope Sir Hugh has not 
spent money for them which he cannot afford. Do you 
think he has done that, aunty ? ” 

“ I suppose not, my love ; for Sir Hugh is not a man to 
embarrass himself to minister to the gratification of a 


THE GAME OPENED. 


91 


child. He must have laid by something for this purpose 
from the sum annually paid by your grandfather. He 
seems fonder of you lately, and he told me last night, that 
in future he should regard you as his daughter.” 

“Yes; Yernor said he meant to adopt me as such. My 
own relations care nothing for me, and but for Sir Hugh 
and yourself I must have been a poor little homeless wan- 
derer. Hear aunty, my heart is filled with gratitude to you 
both,” and Ethel threw her arms around Mrs. Methurn and 
kissed her many times. 

The voice of Vernor was heard from the hall below, im- 
patiently calling on Ethel to descend and mount her pony. 
She hurried to don her riding gear and join him. She 
scarcely glanced at herself in the old-fashioned mirror, 
though the unwonted brilliancy of her appearance might 
have tempted an older person to linger a moment before it. 
But she remembered Vernor’s impatience, and she was 
afraid to delay a moment longer than was necessary. 

Vernor surveyed her approvingly, and lifted her to her 
saddle as he gaily said : 

“ Titania on horseback, I declare. Ethel, the Dryads 
will be envious of you to-day. Sir Hugh must see the 
effect of your outfit ; let us ride past his windows and salute 
him.” 

He sprang into his own saddle, and taking the reins of 
her pony, led him to the side of the house in which Sir 
Hugh’s chamber was situated. He was sitting beside the 
open window, and when Ethel called out to him he smiled, 
and said : 

“ You are pleased with your birthday present, then, my 
dear ? ” 

“ Pleased ! oh that is a poor word. I am enchanted ; you 
could not have given me anything else I should have liked 
half so well.” 


92 the gipsy’s warning. 

“Then I am satisfied, Lady-Bird, for I only wished to 
gratify yon.” 

“Dear Sir PI ugh, what have I done to deserve all this 
kindness ? ” 

“ You have been a bright and happy little sprite to us all, 
Ethel, and in future you will be more to us than you have 
ever been. Take your ride, and be as happy, my child, as 
I wished to make you.” 

There was a tone of paternal tenderness in his voice 
which deeply touched the little girl, for Sir Hugh was a 
consummate actor when he had anything to gain by play- 
ing a part. 

Vernor touched his pony lightly with his riding-whip, and 
they cantered away under the shadow of the old trees, the 
flickering sunlight flashing at intervals over the gorgeous 
dress of the young rider. Ethel had practised riding a 
little under Gerald’s tuition, and she soon gained confidence 
enough to manage her pony herself. He seemed perfectly 
gentle, and her fears were soon sufficiently allayed to per- 
mit her to prattle to her companion with the freedom and 
vivacity of her years. Yernor had no cause to lose his tem- 
per, and they made the circuit of the woodland, and came 
in sight of the Gipsy’s camp. 

“ Shall we ride toward the camp ? 99 he asked. 

“ Oh, no — I am afraid of those wild people. Let us 
keep as far from them as possible.” 

A discordant laugh arose from a thicket near which the 
pair had halted, and a voice which both recognized as that 
of the Gipsy Queen said : 

“ Ha! ha ! danger from us you need not fear, little but- 
terfly ; but it is near to you — your evil fate rides by your 
side, and I bid you beware of him. The dark shadow in 
your line of life which I would not tell you of w T hen we last 
met, is settling over you. Poor little dove ! where shall she 


THE GAME OPENED. 


93 


find shelter when the hawk is making ready to pounce 
upon her ? ” 

The woman issued from her covert, and stood directly in 
their path. Vernor angrily spoke: 

“ Move aside and leave your warnings to those that fear 
them. How dare you speak thus to this young lady ? ” 

“ It is a very tiny young lady,” replied the Gipsy mock- 
ingly. u I should call her a baby, but since she is decked 
out thus some good fortune must have come to her. Some- 
thing for nothing is not your father’s motto, nor yet yours, 
young sir. Little girl, you were born to bright fortunes ; 
do not mar them b} T giving a bad man power over you. I 
see that evil threatens you; evil that will culminate in woe 
in time to come if you do not heed my warning.” 

Ethel had grown very pale, and she faintly said: 

“Pray get out of our path — let us ride on.” 

“ Ho, you fear me, and yet you would ride away with one 
who has more power over your fate for evil, than is exercised 
by the imps of the Inferno. Go on then, but the day will 
come in which you will recall my words in anguish and bit- 
terness of heart.” 

She stepped aside, and Vernor after casting a threatening 
glance upon her, rode rapidly forward, again grasping the 
bridle rein of his young companion. When they were out 
of sight of their encampment, he slackened their pace and 
said : 

“ That woman has some strange grudge against my 
father, and she hates me because I am his son. Do not 
heed her words, Ethel, for they were only dictated by 
malice.” 

“ Yet it is said that these people claim the power to read 
the future.” 

“ Do you then believe that I would become your evil 
fate ? ” he reproachfully asked. 


94 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“No — no — there indeed she must be mistaken. I will 
not think of what she said, for I do not believe it.” 

“ No, Ethel, you must not give credence to her idle words, 
for you will soon find that I intend to become your best 
friend. Sir Hugh has lately come in possession of quite a 
large sum of money, and he has made me a munificent pres- 
ent. Out of that he bought your beautiful pony, and from 
mine, I am going to give you something else you will 
like.” 

The child laughed, then checking herself she gravely 
said : 

“ The pony is quite enough, Yernor. You will have a 
use for all your money for yourself.” 

“ But it pleases me to use a portion of it for your gratifi- 
cation. I tell you this, that when pretty things come to 
you, you may know who is the giver. But you have not 
named your dainty steed yet, Lady Bird. What shall we 
call him ? ” 

“ Lightfoot,” she quickly replied, “ for he scarcely seems 
to touch the ground as he skims over it.” 

“Ha, by my faith, a pretty taste you have in names. 
Lightfoot merits his cognomen if ever pony did. Now let 
us canter to the Priory, and show Aunt Agnes how much 
you have profited by your equestrian lesson.” 

Ethel gathered the bridle in her small hand, and they 
swept rapidly forward. Sir Hugh and Mrs. Methurn were 
both near the hall door, watching for their return. During 
their absence the lady had been vainly endeavoring to dis- 
cover the origin of Sir Hugh’s sudden change toward her 
protegee. That both the baronet and his son were moved 
by some motive which was sedulously concealed from her, 
Mrs. Methurn felt convinced ; but for the present she 
found her brother impenetrable. He only assured her that 
it had long been his intention to place Ethel in the position 


THE GAME OPENED. 


95 


of an adopted daughter, and the savings he had made ena- 
bled him to indulge in the extravagances which so much 
surprised her. 

Sir Hugh furthermore added that he had resolved to fit 
up an apartment for Ethel’s especial use, and he had ordered 
the furniture from London. Mrs. Methurn listened in 
silent astonishment, convinced that beneath this liberality- 
lay some deep design in which the fate of her protegee was 
implicated. She quietly asked if Col. Clifton was dead, 
and Ethel the next in succession to her grandfather’s estate, 
that such changes were to be made in her favor. In reply, 
Sir Hugh assured her that Col. Clifton was living, and was 
likely to live many years yet. That he had reasons for the 
changes he meditated, which, in due time, should be made 
known to his sister-in-law ; for the present, he only asked 
her to allow her young charge more freedom than usual, 
that she might be more of a companion to Yernor. 

The absence of Gerald was the reason assigned for this, 
but Mrs. Methurn knew that only to Ethel was his depart- 
ure a cause of regret, for Yernor had evidently regarded the 
presence of her son more as a restraint than a pleasure. 

That evening, on going into her room, Ethel found an 
elegant work-box fitted up in the most costly and beautiful 
manner. This was Yernor’s birth-day present, and beside 
it lay a pin-cushion worked by Mrs. Methurn, and a copy 
of verses written by Gerald. 

Over the last she shed a few tears, but they were soon 
wiped away to plunge into the recesses of the box, and bring 
out the various feminine treasures it contained. These 
filled her with delight ; but the crowning joy of all was a 
case fitted in the centre of the box, which, on being opened, 
displayed a parure of sparkling rubies set with the simpli- 
city suited to one of her tender years. 

Mrs. Methurn watched her rapturous delight, and she was 


96 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


filled with disquietude as to the meaning of this sudden 
change toward the child who had been rather tolerated than 
welcome at the Priory. 

In a few more days the furniture which had been ordered 
arrived. The walls of a large room adjoining Mrs. Medi- 
um’s were covered with rose silk hangings, and a set of 
heavily carved furniture, which was a recent fashion import- 
ed from France, was arranged within it. 

Everything was very grand, and Ethel moved about in 
this stately apartment looking more childlike than ever, but 
she unconsciously began to feel a new sense of importance 
in the attentions lavished on her. Vernor dexterously 
made her believe that the change was due to him, and her 
young heart began to cling to him with as much tenderness 
as she had once felt for Gerald. 

A beautiful wardrobe next arrived, filled with articles 
which a young princess might have worn, and the exquisite 
embroidery and fine laces with which the clothing was adorn- 
ed increased Mrs. Methuru's astonishment at the sudden 
caprice of Sir Hugh to elevate the hitherto neglected little 
waif into a person of such importance. She could not pen- 
etrate the mystery, yet it filled her with uneasiness as to 
his real intentions toward the child of her affections. 

Vernor was using every art to ingratiate himself with 
Ethel, and with deep pain Mrs. Methurn saw that her art- 
less and affectionate nature was strongly impressed by his 
•newly awakened interest in her affairs. 


THE SECRET CHAMBER* 


97 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE SECRET CHAMBER. 

Sir Hugh replied to the letter of Hoover & Co., assur- 
ing them that an agent clothed with full powers to settle 
the estate of the deceased Mr. Winston would be' sent over 
to Amsterdam in a short time, and expressed the hope that 
the lawyers would have everything arranged for a speedy 
transfer of the property to his possession. 

The change in his son’s prospects had a beneficial effect 
upon his own health, and he found himself rapidly recover- 
ing his powers of locomotion. This was especially agreea- 
ble to him, as Yernor every day inquired when he would be 
able to conduct him to the secret chamber, for the young 
man still pertinaciously dwelt on his desire to explore its 
mysteries. 

Sir Hugh vainly endeavored to evade the promise he had 
made, for he shrank with nervous dread from the thought of 
entering the place with which so many dark memories were 
connected. But Vernor would listen to no excuses, and he 
declared that on the fulfilment of his father’s pledge rested 
his acceptance of Ethel as his future wife. If Sir Hugh 
forfeited his word, he would also retract, and seek his fortune 
in his own way : after all, he would probably do better for 
himself than to give his freedom in exchange for the wealth 
it would purchase. He did not really care for the child, and 
he but played a part toward her to please his father. 

Thus goaded on, Sir Hugh nerved himself to the task of 
entering the vaults beneath the old building alone at a late 
hour of the night. He provided himself with a dark lan- 
tern, and selected several keys from an old bunch that had 
lain for years unused in a closet in his room. 

6 


98 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


By opening doors which had long been closed he could 
descend to the vaults, and he preferred this to skirting the 
park to the outlet through which the gipsy had penetrated 
to the place. 

When the household was buried in sleep, Sir Hugh lit his 
lantern, and crossing a narrow room which divided his own 
apartment from the cells once occupied by the monks, he fit- 
ted the rusty key in the lock, and with much effort succeed- 
ed in turning it. At length the door opened and a damp 
mouldy scent greeted him from the badly ventilated corri- 
dor. 

He stepped in and flashed his light over the dusty floor, 
and heavy oak doors which closed upon the dormitories once 
occupied by the monks. The walls were covered with cob- 
webs, and bats disturbed by the light fluttered wildly through 
the long aud narrow passage. 

Summoning all his natural hardihood, Sir Hugh walked 
rapidly forward and gained the door at the farther extremity 
of the corridor. This opened into the chapel, a gothic tem- 
ple of considerable size, which was falling into decay. The 
altar was broken down, and the pictures which had once 
adorned the walls were cut and defaced by the violence of 
the soldiers who had first desecrated its holy precincts. 

More than a century had elapsed since that event, aud 
time and neglect had nearly finished what man began. 

Tradition said that the altar steps had been stained with 
the blood of the officiating priest, who refused to yield to 
the orders of Henry VIII. the property which had been 
consecrated to God. 

The feeble light that glimmered on broken chalices, and 
fragments of consecrated candles, showed that a struggle had 
taken place on the spot dedicated to the very holy of holies; 
but the present visitor had no reverence for the relics of a 
faith which he and his had long repudiated, and he strode 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


99 


past the altar to the crumbling remains of a reading desk, 
and placing his lantern upon the floor, kneeled down to ex- 
amine the flagging beneath. 

He drew out a dagger, and scraped away the accumulated 
dust around a smooth, square stone, and then, pressing hard 
upon the edge, it slowly arose, and revealed a flight of steps 
which seemed to have been rudely cut from the solid rock. 

Carefully guarding his light, the baronet forced his burly 
form through this aperture, and propping back the trap-door, 
descended, into the labyrinth of vaults below. A person un- 
acquainted with the locality must soon have become hope- 
lessly lost in their windings, for the subterranean apartments 
extended beneath the whole of the old building, and were 
arranged with bewildering disregard to architectural rules. 

But Sir Hugh was familiar with every foot of the route 
he must traverse, and he strode forward without pausing to 
note the dreary echo of his steps as they reverberated through 
the desolate waste he was traversing. He at length stopped 
in front of a damp, mouldy looking wall, and turning his 
light upon it saw that the entrance he sought was already 
open. It was an oblong block of stone, much larger than 
the one he had recently lifted, which had been sprung back 
and left resting upon the cunningly concealed hinges. 

With an oath, Sir Hugh muttered that the Gipsy had 
been there to open the way for him, and, without hesitating, 
he thrust his lantern in the vault, and then followed it him- 
self. He straightened himself, and looked around with a 
shudder, for he recalled the moment when a corpse-like form 
had been borne through that aperture, and taken by him 
and his accomplice to the living death that awaited her. 

The room was about twenty feet square, and nothing was 
seen in it but a flight of steps, which wound upward to a 
trap-door in the floor above. Sir Hugh recovered himself, 
and, drawing a deep breath, approached the stairs. Slowly 


100 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


and reluctantly he mounted them, for as he drew near the 
bourne of his pilgrimage, even his cold, hard heart failed 
him. 

11 It is too bad of Vernor to exact this from me,” he mut- 
tered, as he stood with his arm lifted to touch the spring 
which would open the way above him. “ My heart fails me 
at the thought o.f what I may find there.” 

At that moment his knees tottered, b.is face blanched, 
and his hair was glued to his temples by the cold dew that 
rose upon them, for he heard the muffled sound of a death 
chant coming from the sealed apartment above. He sat 
down on the steps, breathless and appalled ; the dirge 
swelled louder, and he despairingly asked : 

“ Oh, Arabella, has your outraged spirit been permitted 
to return to chant your own requiem in the ears of him who 
slowly murdered you ? Yet I must go on ; I can never go 
hack without fathoming this mystery.” 

With sudden desperation he lifted his arm, thrust hack 
the door above his head, and a dazzling flash of light 
streamed upon him from the apartment he had expected to 
find as silent and dark as the grave it had become. 

Sir Hugh was no coward, neither was he superstitious, 
and after the first moment of stunning surprise, he gath- 
ered courage to lift himself through the aperture and look 
upon the strange scene the room presented. 

It was brilliantly illuminated, and the light fell upon 
walls draped with faded damask, on rich old-fashioned fur- 
niture covered with the same material. But what fascinated 
the eye of the visitor was a niche in the wall from which 
the hangings were drawn back, exposing a heavy stone sar- 
cophagus before which a kind of altar had been made by a 
table that was drawn in front of it, on which the candles 
that lighted the apartment were placed. 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


101 


A small square of velvet was thrown over the coffin, on 
which was embroidered : 

Arabella Yernok— Lady Methurn — Aged 23. 

The chant still continued, though no one was visible, and 
Sir Hugh glared upon the heavy satin hangings of the bed, 
which were closely drawn, and hoarsely said: 

“ Come forth, Minchen, for to you I owe this shameful 
mockery. You are concealed behind those curtains, wailing 
your cursed death-song. Come forth, I say.” 

At this peremptory command, the Gipsy put aside the 
heavy folds of silk that sheltered her, and stepped out into 
the light. 

She was dressed in white, and wore a wreath of scarlet 
flowers twined around her gray locks. The dress was also 
embroidered with gay colors, and its youthfulness contrasted 
in a ghastly manner with her worn and faded appearance. 
She made him a mocking reverence, and said: 

“Yes, Hugh Methurn, I am here, celebrating the obse- 
quies of your wife in the festive dress in which you first 
saw and loved me. See how carefully I have preserved it ; 
every flower is unfaded, and L — am what you see me. Strange 
isn’t it, that the work of human hands should last longer 
than that of the divine architect ? If God did not intend 
the spirit to live in another form, he would have fashioned 
the casket to endure longer. What does he mean to do 
with your spirit and mine, Methurn? Have you any 
idea ? ” 

“ I neither know nor care,” replied the baronet, roughly. 

What does this mockery mean ? and why have you assumed 
that dress, which is as unsuited to you as to the corpse in 
yonder coffin. Ugh! the trappings of youth on age and 
wrinkles is too hideous a sight.” 

The woman laughed wildly. 


102 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ Yet when I first wore this dress you swore to love me 
eternally ; you vowed that your passion should know no 
change. Oh ! Hugh Methurn, it is well for me that 
nothing you can now say has power to wound me. Come 
——let us chant together the services for your dead wife. 
They have been long delayed, but that was because the 
chief mourner was absent — ha! ha!” 

Again her discordant laugh rang out, and the listener 
shuddered. 

“Woman, how did you know that I would come hither? 
and why have you prepared this scene to greet me ? ” 

“Because it chimes w’ith my humor, Sir Hugh; and I 
divined that you must come hither to prepare the room for 
the inspection of the young heir. I made my preparations, 
and I have awaited you here every night since I learned 
that your health was mending. Oh ! it was brave to watch 
beside that stone sarcophagus in which my rival lies, and 
know that she can never again step forth to the light of the 
day ; though it was little of that she saw for months before 
her death.” 

“Then she is really there?” said Sir Hugh, pointing to 
the coffin, with a cold dew bursting from his brow. “I 
feared as much ; but this niche can be closed up. The 
hangings can be made to conceal it, for Yernor must know 
nothing of the tragedy they conceal.” 

“ Of course she is there, Sir Hugh ; for how could I 
have removed her without assistance ? and you refused to 
come hither after her death. It was lucky that the peni- 
tent’s couch had been left by the old monks ; it made a 
capital mausoleum for the Lady of Methurn ; and she 
withered away to such an anatomy through fretting for her 
freedom, that I lifted her into it as easily as I wmuld a child, 
after the breath left her body.” 

“And she has lain there for fifteen years unheeded — ■ 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


103 


might have lain there through all time — but for the words 
which aroused the curiosity of my son. The secret of the 
chamber might have died with me but for that. Now, Ver- 
nor insists on knowing it, and I have no alternative but to 
show him the entrance. But, after all, it may be useful to 
him in the future.” 

“In the same way, Sir Hugh?” asked the Gipsy,- signifi- 
cantly. 

The baronet started, and he quickly asked : 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Only that as you married a woman for her fortune, and 
put her away to get possession of it, your son may follow in 
your footsteps.” 

“ He will not do that, for he will have no devil to tempt 
him to the wickedness as you did me,” he fiercely replied. 

“ He will be sure to find one,” retorted the woman. 
“ ‘ Like father, like son,’ says the old proverb, and your son 
is as hard and unscrupulous as you were in your youth — 
nay, as you now are. Of late I have seen him dancing 
attendance on the little girl who seems suddenly to have 
become an object of importance to him and to you. I have 
heard of the presents heaped on her, and I know that you 
do nothing without a motive. Is the child already Lady 
Clifton, Sir Hugh ? ” 

“ No — nor ever likely to be, as far as I know ; but I do 
not choose to be called to account by you. Assist me to 
remove from this room ever}' evidence of my wife’s stay in 
it, and then let us part forever.” 

“They are already removed, Methurn. I performed that 
service for you before you came, for I knew that would be 
your object in coming hither. But we are strangely neg- 
lecting the funeral rites ; the relics have long waited them ; 
but it is never too late to perform a duty.” 

She darted behind the bed curtains, and again appeared 


104 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


wrapped in a black cloak which covered her person to her 
feet, and her gray hair, from which she had removed the 
scarlet wreath, floated in silvery masses upon her shoulders. 

“It’s as good as a masquerade,” she lightty said, as she 
again stood before him. Eh, my dear baronet, how do I 
sustain the character of chief mourner at my lady’s 
funeral ? ” 

There was a mingling of the grotesque and the horrible 
in the scene that made even Sir Hugh’s iron nature quail, 
and he sunk down upon a chair which had been drawn in 
front of the table. 

“ That is the very seat I prepared for you,” said the 
Gipsy, “ and here is the prayer-book. You can read the 
service, and I will make the responses. It will be nothing 
like the gorgeous burial that filled the parish church with 
mourners on that other day ; but this will be real, and the 
other was only a sham. Who but you and I knew that the 
coffin thej'' entombed with so much state was filled with 
stones, and the living Lady Methurn was incarcerated in 
this chamber? Ho! ho! Sir Hugh, you got the money, 
but I got what was better to me — revenge — revenge upon 
my rival.” 

She placed a book before him, but now, aroused to a pitch 
of uncontrollable passion, he dashed it to the other side of 
the apartment, and furiously said : 

“Have done with your mocking bewilderment, and shut 
out that thing froni sight. Drop the hangings over it, and 
put our your lights. I cannot tarry here all night listening 
to your babbling.” 

“ So you refuse to give the poor lady Christian sepulture ? 
Well — it’s no business of mine; she is safe enough yonder 
without it, and if you are satisfied, so am I.” 

Sir Hugh covered his face with his hands, and his strong 
frame quivered with emotion. He could remorselessly con- 


THE SECRET CHAMBER, 


105 


deran his wife to the captivity that destroyed* her, hut when 
brought face to face with the stony receptacle in which she 
lay, a trembling dread seized him, and he asked of his 
inmost soul if some terrible retribution would not yet over- 
take him. 

The marriage settlement of Lady Methurn had given 
him the entire control of her fortune in the event of her 
decease; the woman who now stood beside him, deeply as 
he now loathed her, had at that time unlimited power over 
him, and he yielded to the temptation to rid himself of his 
wife, urged on by his own cupidity, and the furious jealousy 
of her rival. 

Lady Methurn had no near relatives, and when she lay 
ill in her secluded country home, Minchen in the disguise 
of a nurse, was placed in charge' of her. The report was 
spread through the country that she was attacked with tha.t 
terrible scourge in those days, the small pox, and the Priory 
was avoided by every one. The servants feared to enter 
the suite of rooms appropriated to her use, and Sir Hugh 
and the nurse were her only attendants. 

The infant was removed and placed in the care of a 
healthy countrywoman, and the two deadly enemies of the 
poor lady had the field clear to themselves. A leaden coffin 
was procured, in which sufficient weight was placed, and 
then sealed up to prevent the contagion of the disease from 
spreading. The man who tremblingly performed this ser- 
vice realty believed that the body of Lady Methurn was 
within it, and he escaped from the apartment as soon as his 
task was completed. 

In the meantime the hapless victim had been placed 
under the influence of narcotics, and conveyed to the room 
whose existence was only known to the two who had pre- 
pared it for her use. One of the deserted apartments had 
been denuded of its furniture, and by night, Sir Hugh and 


106 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


his accomplice conveyed it to the secret chamber and ar- 
ranged it themselves. 

Lady Methurn awoke from her long and death-like sleep 
to find herself a prisoner, shut out from social life, from 
light, from hope. She never again beheld her husband, 
and her late nurse appeared before her in her true charac- 
ter, that of a jealous and vindictive fury. 

The Gipsy, liberally supplied with money by Sir Hugh, 
remained in the neighborhood of the Priory, and every third 
night she came to visit her charge, to supply her with food, 
and to watch over her rapid decay. Broken in health and 
crushed in spirit, the struggle did not last long. Within a 
year from her incarceration the helpless woman died, and 
the being that hated her had the satisfaction of placing her 
worn and wasted body in the stone coffin which had been 
placed by the monks in this chamber of penance as the 
couch of its occupant. 

At every visit it had been exhibited to the unfortunate 
lady by her relentless enemy, with the assurance that it was 
to become her tomb; that such was the unalterable will of 
her husband. Lady Methurn had great pride, and a very 
high spirit combined with little real strength of character. 
She soon sunk into a state of apathy from which even the 
taunts and insults of the Gipsy could not arouse her, and she 
gradually faded away until one night when the persecutor 
came she found her lying lifeless on the bed. She placed 
her in the sarcophagus, and with immense labor closed the 
heavy lids upon her wrongs and woes. 

Then Minchen sought Sir Hugh and demanded as the 
price of her services that he should redeem his pledge to 
make her his wife if she would enable him to grasp the for- 
tune he coveted. He refused ; threatened her with the pen- 
alties of the law for what she had done, and commanded her 
to leave England. Even while trampling upon her, he relied 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


107 


upon her love for him to save him from exposure. He knew 
that she would never denounce him, and she never did. He 
gave her money, and she again betook herself to the vaga- 
bond life of her people. 

In obedience to his commands, for years she wandered in 
foreign lands accompauied by her son ; but suddenly the 
wish to return to the Priory seized her. The son of her 
rival was now approaching maturity, and in her heart was a 
feeling of bitter hatred toward him who occupied the position 
which should have been filled by the eldest born. Melcboir 
was a nameless and homeless wanderer, while Vernor held 
the station which should have been his. 

Again the gipsy’s camp appeared in the old woodland in 
which Minchen and Sir Hugh had first met, and with a 
heart filled with bitter memories, mingled with no feeling of 
remorse for what she had done, the prematurely aged and 
wrinkled woman again stood face to face with the man she 
had so adoringly loved ; so recklessly aided to commit a 
crime of even deeper dye than that of murder. 

That meeting has been described, and here she had await- 
ed him for a final settlement of her claims upon him. Min- 
chen picked up the book which the baronet had so furiously 
dashed from him, placed it on the table, and began to loosen 
the cords which held back the hangings in front of the sar- 
cophagus. Suddenly she paused and asked ? 

“Wouldn’t you like to look upon your dead wife, Meth- 
urn ? In this atmosphere, by this time she has withered 
away to a brown mummy, aud I would like you to see that 
her beauty is gone as well as my own. Come, let us raise 
the stone lid and look in upon her.” 

Sir Hugh lifted his face with an expression of horror, and 
hoarsely said : 

u Are you a demon, or a woman ? Do you think I would 
dare to look upon the creature I so fearfully wronged?” 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


108 

“I am what your cruelty has made me,” was the fierce 
response ; “ a tigress, perhaps, but I am no worse than yon, 
though I have the nerve to face the consequences of my 
own acts. You could bring hither the living form in your 
arras and thrust it in this den, yet you shrink from looking 
on the dead one from which the spirit that suffered has long 
since fled. Ho ! ho ! Metburn, that is a nice distinction, 
and by making it I suppose you claim to be more humane 
than I am ; but neither of us have much to boast of in that 
line.” 

u 2sTo,” replied Sir Hugh, in a subdued tone. “ We have 
both playe4 : a terrible part. Arabella’s temper made me 
hard and cruel toward her. She irritated me every day by 
her arrogant opposition to my wishes, and I was easily 
wrought on to rid myself of her by shutting her up here. I 
have sometimes thought of it with remorse, but 1 believe 
that you have had no such feeling.” 

44 That may well be, for she loved you , but she rivalled me; 
then wherefore shall I feel remorse? You will say that }’ou 
were wrought on by me, Fsuppose ; let it be so ; it has been 
so from the beginning of creation; the first man cravenly 
said to his Maker, ‘the woman thou gavest me tempted 
me.’ Follow the example of the father of the human race, 
and throw the blame of your own greed upon me ; I can 
bear that as I have borne so many other wrongs at your 
hands.” 

“Minchen, this recrimination is useless. Let us put the 
room in order, for to-morrow I have promised to bring Ver- 
nor hither and show him the secret of the entrance.” 

4< How will you account for the presence of the furni- 
ture?” 

“ T have already told him that the chamber was used by 
refugees in Cromwell’s time, and he will naturally think the 
furniture was placed here for their comfort.” 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 109 

He arose, drew down the hangings and hurriedly arranged 
them against the wall. Then he said : 

“ I will place this heavy table against the recess, and no 
one will imagine that anything is concealed behind it.” 

The table was lifted back, the lights extinguished, all save 
one, which the Gipsy carried, and looking around the apart- 
ment, Sir Hugh raised his lantern to depart. 

“Come,” he said, “daylight must not find me here; let 
us leave this dreary place.” 

“Not till you have done something for my son, Sir Hugh. 
Is it just that Melchoir should be a wandering vagrant, 
while every indulgence is granted to his younger brother? 
If you can afford such presents as you have lately lavished 
upon your ward, you can also give to your own son.” 

“ I gave you money when we last met, and I shall soon 
have it in my power to give you much more. What else 
can you demand ? ” 

“ I ask an annuity for Melchoir’s life. Settle on him a 
sum sufficient for his wants and mine, and I will leave you 
to repent in peace.” 

“ If you will pledge yourself to lay aside your enmity to 
Yernor, I will comply with your demand. You hate the 
boy ; you would do evil to him if the chance arose.” 

“ I promise it — I will do him no wrong,” said the woman 
in reply, for the thought arose in her mind that the blows 
given by Vernor to his half brother had made him a far bit- 
terer and more reckless enemy than even she would have 
proved ; but of this Sir Hugh knew nothing. “Give me the 
means of living, and we will again go far from you.” 

“They shall be yours,” replied the baronet. “In a few 
weeks I shall have it in my power to provide for jmu liber- 
ally, and I pledge myself to do so. In the meantime, I 
command you to keep clear of my son. I would not, on 
many accounts, have Yernor know the history of that por- 
tion of my past life in which you are concerned.” 


110 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


" It would i'ndeed be a pretty record to lay bare to the 
child of her who lies j r onder ; but I warn you that unless 
you keep your word to me this time, I will bring him luther, 
and tell him the whole story.” 

“ I shall not fail ; but even if I should, I would not advise 
you to attempt that,” said Sir Hugh, in a threatening man- 
lier. i( I would crush you, and all your tribe, as remorse- 
lessly as I would deal with a nest of vipers. You know of 
old that I am not to be trifled with.” 

" And you also know that I am not one to regard threats,” 
was the retort. “ If I were to tell my story to a magistrate, 
and lead the way to this spot, what would be the result to 
you, Methurn ? ” 

He turned savagely toward her, and the gleam of his 
fierce eyes made her cower in spite of her natural hardi- 
hood. He hissed between his set teeth : 

“ Do you offer a temptation to me to strangle you, and 
throw you into yonder sarcophagus to keep company with 
her you placed there? If I believed that you could 
denounce me, jmu should never leave this spot alive.” 

“ If a struggle between us were to take place, Hugh Meth- 
urn, I should not die easy. I am younger and more active 
than you, and I believe that I should come off the winner ; 
besides, I came prepared for every emergency,” and she 
drew a sharp poniard from her bosom, the fine point of which 
was slightly discolored. 

“ The point of this steel has been dipped in a poison so 
subtle, so deadly, that one scratch from it will be as fatal to 
life as the sting of the asp. One blow from it would paralyze 
your arm, and in a few seconds the fatal venom would rush 
through your system, carrying death through every artery 
— through even the minutest vein. In one hour you would 
be a swollen and loathesome corpse ; then think of the risk 
of such a blow dealt by a strong and desperate hand, and be 
more sparing of your threats, Sir Hugh.” 


THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


Ill 


The baronet glanced with a shudder at the weapon, then 
at the ruthless face of the speaker and hastily said : 

“Enough, Minchen. Let us not bandy threats which 
neither will attempt to carry out. Your life and mine are 
bound with the same cord, and the rope which cuts one short 
will be very apt to end the other. Put up your dagger; 
you will have no occasion to use it on me.” 

“ I will put it up when you have descended the staircase 
before me. In dealing with such a man as you, one cannot 
be too wary.” 

“ But how do I know that you might not strike me from 
behind with that infernal weapon of yours?” 

“Because I have nothing to gain, and much to lose, by 
your death. The reverse would be the case if you could 
put me out of the way. Descend, Sir Hugh ; you know 
that I would never harm you, unless compelled to do so in 
self-defence.” 

She motioned imperiously toward the opening in the floor, 
the poniard flashing in the light of the candle she held, and 
Sir Hugh thought it best to obey. He descended the steps 
as rapidly as his infirmities permitted, and the Gipsy, after 
placing her candle in a lantern that stood upon the floor, 
followed him, and carefnlly closed the trap-door. 

When she gained the floor, her companion was already at 
the entrance, but she rapidly overtook him, and together 
they shut the door which closed in the wall so perfectly, 
that one unacquainted with its locality would never have 
suspected its existence. The Gipsy turned toward Sir 
Hugh, and said : 

“ For the present here we part, Methurn. Comply with 
my Just demands, and I will wander away and leave you at 
peace. There lies your path, and here is mine ; they 
diverge as widely as you could wish, and if such is your 
will, they need never cross each other again.” 


112 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ It is my will. The annuity I have promised shall be 
regularly paid through rny lawyer, Mr. Barstow, of Taunton, 
to any one you may designate ; but after what has this 
night passed here, I never wish to see you again. We have 
done each other evil enough, Minchen, and it is useless to 
meet to call up the irredeemable past. I would bury it be- 
neath the deepest, darkest tide of oblivion if I possessed 
the power to do so.” 

“ And my son ? the child you once declared the noblest 
boy that ever blessed a father’s heart — have you no wish to 
look on him ? ” 

“ No,” was the hasty reply. “I have no desire to see 
him. Since that unfortunate blow Melchoir has hated me ; 
then why shall I pain myself by seeing him ? He has grown 
into a handsome savage, I suppose, for he had little good 
from either you or me ; and when my hand fell so heavily up- 
on him, it crushed the intellect that might have guided him 
to a higher career than that he must now fill. Poor lad ! I 
have often regretted the results of my passionate temper.” 

“ The boy is good, and true to me, and that is quite 
enough,” said the Gipsy, with a frown. “ Had he retained 
his early brightness, you would probably have sought to 
take him from me ; but now he is all my own. When I 
tell him that you have provided for our wants, he will be 
glad to leave your lauds forever, for he feels and resents the 
injuries of his mother. Adieu, Sir Hugh; day approaches 
and we must part.” 

“ In one month you shall have the first instalment of your 
annuity,” was the response, and the two separated. 

Sir Hugh paused for a few moments to watch the reced- 
ing figure of the Gipsy till the faint circle of light cast 
by her lantern faded into a dim spark, and was then lost 
in the abrupt windings of the vaults. With a sigh of relief 
he turned upon his own course, and slowly and thoughtfully 
retraced his steps toward the chapel. 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 113 


The unusual excitement and his long walk had exhausted 
him, and he was glad once more to reach his own apartment 
and throw himself upon his bed, where he soon fell into a 
profound slumber, from which he did not wake till a late 
hour on the following morning. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 

Sir Hugh usually took his breakfast in his own room, and 
the late hour at which he rang did not excite any surprise. 
Vernor came in with the servant who brought him his tea 
and toast, and inquired with much solicitude concerning the 
state of his father’s health. The baronet replied with a 
faint smile : 

“ 1 am quite strong again, and to-day I shall be able to 
do what I have promised. I will acccompany you whither 
we proposed to go after I have finished my breakfast.” 

Vernor nodded and looked pleased ; but he said nothing 
more till John had retired and closed the door after him. 
He then eagerly spoke : 

“ Father, if we would carry out our plans with reference 
to Ethel, we must invent some story to satisfy Aunt Agnes. 
She has been annoying me with her inquiries until I am 
quite out of patience, and she evidently suspects our motive 
for the change toward the child. It is my belief that she 
will oppose the marriage, unless some better reason is found 
for it than either you or I are prepared to give.” 

Sir Hugh burst into a volley of curses, and having 
exhausted his irritable feelings in this congenial manner, 
said : 


7 


114 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“Mrs. Methurn has no power to stop it, and, if she 
attempts to circumvent me, I will threaten to remove my 
ward from her altogether and place her in a boarding 
school.” 

“ That might silence her, sir; but it will be better to make 
her believe that it will be to Ethel’s interest as much as my 
own to let the marriage ceremony be performed between, 
us.” 

(t But how is that to be done ? ” 

“ I have turned the affair over in my own mind, and I 
think I can manage it, if you do not object.” 

“ Why should I object to anything that is to serve your 
interests ? What do you propose to do ? ” 

“ Only to forge a letter which is to be shown to her in 
place of the one that came from Mr. Winston. From that 
she shall learn that the fortune is left to Ethel on the condi- 
tion that she shall become the wife of your son, as it was the 
only method left to him to show his gratitude for a service 
rendered to him by you many years ago.” 

“Service? What service? I never heard of the man 
till I got that notice from the Amsterdam lawyers.” 

“ Pshaw ! Sir Hugh, how dull you are ! How is my aunt 
to know that ? You have mixed largely with men, and I 
dare say have sometimes done a favor that did not cost you 
much. This man may as well have been the recipient of 
some such kindness as any other; at all events, you can say 
he was, and who is to contradict yoij? Leave the manage- 
ment of this to me, and I will prove to you that I have a 
pretty talent for mystifying.” 

“ Oh, well, if you can make as shrewd a woman as Agnes 
Methurn believe your assertions, I can have no objection. If 
she knows Ethel to be an heiress she may wish to keep her 
free for her own son ; the lad was always fonder of her than 
you were, at any rate.” 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 1 15 


“ Yes ; if Gerald were here I should have a far more diffi- 
cult part to play. Ethel, was very much attached to him, 
too ; but she is learning to like me quite as well as she once 
liked my cousin. After we have visited the Secret Cham- 
ber I will compose my letter, and I can disguise my hand 
so that Aunt Agnes will never recognize it. It will be 
some amusement in this dull old den to play this trick on 
my dignified and stately kinswoman.’’ 

“Well, well — arrange it to suit yourself. When your 
own interests are at stake, you will have shrewdness enough 
to serve them well, 1 dare say.” 

“ Hever fear, sir. I have quite a talent for invention, 
and this is as good a field as any other to try it in. My 
aunt will probably consider Mr. Winston as a romantic old 
fool, but that is no concern of ours. Luckily he is safe in 
his grave, and cannot contradict anything I may make him 
say.” 

Sir Hugh laughed and patted his son on the shoulder as 
he said : 

“ Then you begin to see the thing as I do, and you no 
longer wish to throw away this chance to win a fortune? ” 

“Well, the fact is, sir, Ethel is a more attractive little 
puss than I believed her to be. I have set myself to study- 
ing her good points, and she will develop into a very passa- 
ble woman. She’s deucedly small, but I hope she will take 
a sudden start, and grow tall. But large or small, pretty 
or ugly, I must take her, for I see no escape from my dull 
life here but in gaining possession of her fortune. Besides, 
it will be many years before I shall be compelled to claim 
her. By that time I shall have sown my wild oats, and I 
shall care very little who is the mistress of my establish- 
ment.” 

“ Bravo, Vernor ! for so young a man I must say that 
you are quite a philosopher. Carry out your plan j win 


116 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Ethel’s consent to marry you on any terms, and I am con- 
tent. Our fortunes are at a very low ebb, and if we cannot 
mend them by getting possession of hers, we shall be utterly 
ruined. New claims, which are imperative, have lately 
come against me, and they must be provided for, even 
if I sacrifice a portion of my small income to liquidate 
them.” 

“I was not aware that you have contracted debts, Sir 
Hugh. I thought that of late years we have lived meanly 
enough to keep within hounds.” 

“ So we have, hut this is a long neglected claim. It comes 
to me in such a form that I cannot set it asfde. It is use- 
less to explain to you, only enable me to settle it and all will 
be well.” 

“If it depends on me, sir, you shall have that power 
before very long. Will it not be better to make our visit to 
the chamber at an early hour of the day ? I am quite ready 
now to accompany you.” 

“ Yes — we will go at once,” replied Sir Hugh, with a 
show of willingness, yet his heart sank within him at the 
trial before him, and he would gladly have postponed the 
performance of his promise; but since he must go through 
the ordeal, he nerved himself to the task, and with seeming 
alacrity drew the keys from their hiding place. 

“ These,” he said, “ will unlock the doors through which 
we must pass ; I have also provided a lantern to light us 
through the labyrinth of the vaults.” 

Vernor took up the lantern, and remarked: 

“This has been lately used, for the candle in it is burned 
to the socket Have you already visited the place, Sir 
Hugh ? ” and he fixed his eyes upon his father as if he 
would read his inmost soul. 

“ Pooh ! why should you suppose that I would go through 
the subterranean apartments alone, when you were ready to 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 117 


accompany me ? I ordered John to bring me a lantern, 
and probably tin’s one came from the stable.” 

“ Then John is very extravagant, for we cannot afford to 
use wax candles in the stable.” 

“ You are very prying, Vernor,” said Sir Hugh, in an 
irritated tone. “ The candle ends are good for nothing, 
and doubtless Old Maud gave him that. Take the frag- 
ment out, and put in yonder piece from the candle-stick. 
I am quite ready to go, and quite anxious to get through 
with this visit.” 

Vernor obeyed him, and lighted the candle from the brazier 
over which the tea-kettle was boiling; but his suspicions 
were aroused, and he was on the qui vive for any discovery 
he might make. 

They passed through the empty, echoing room that joined 
Sir Hugh’s, and the old man unlocked the door that led 
into the corridor. When they stood beneath the low oak 
ceiling, Vernor paused and flashed his light in every direc- 
tion. He plainly saw the marks of recent footsteps on the 
thick coating of dust that lay upon the floor, and in his 
own mind he felt convinced that his father had preceded 
him to the Secret Chamber, but for some reason that was 
inexplicable to him, desired to conceal the fact. He made 
no comment on his discovery, but became even more watch- 
ful than before. 

When they reached the chapel, although the windows 
were boarded up, the light of a brilliant day struggled 
through crevices and broken places dimly illuminating the 
desolate spot. The altar was broken and defaced, but the 
choir was perfect still, and the lofty arched roof, whose 
beams were made of oak, still defied the ravages of time. 
Vernor glanced around on the defaced pictures, and he said 
in a tone of regret : 

“It is a pity that the barbarians who came here at the 


* 


118 THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 

Tudor’s command should have destroyed these paintings. 
Some of them were fair specimens of the Italian school of 
art, and if they had been preserved they would now be 
worth their weight in gold.” 

“True,” replied Sir Hugh. “Butin that case, neither 
you nor I would have been benefited by them. They 
would long since have been sold by the lords of the manor, 
for the owners of Methurn have always been a reckless and 
extravagant race.” 

“ We have hot blood and strong passions, Sir Hugh, then 
whj 7 expect of us the virtuous self-denial of the Puritan ? 
Yet I am surprised that this chapel, which is a fine relic of 
the past, should have been shut up for more then a century, 
and allowed to become the abode of rats and spiders.” 

“The new masters had no use for the popish chapel; 
besides, the successive lords of the Priory lived at Court, 
and until my father’s time it was seldom inhabited. He 
added the new wing in which our apartments are situated, 
but he preferred building a parish church to renovating this 
old ruin. But we are losing time; let us descend into the 
vaults.” 

Sir Hugh pointed out the exact locality of the flag stone 
beneath which the staircase lay, and showed Yernor the 
spot on which to press to raise it. After a few attempts the 
young man succeeded in elevating the trap-door himself; he 
then preceded Sir Hugh in the descent, and held the lantern 
so that he could see where to place his gouty feet. 

At length they stood side by side upon the ground, and 
Vernor looked about him by the feeble light he carried, with 
intense curiosity. Three avenues, leading to different 
points, branched off from the foot of the stairs, looking 
like black gulfs, from which damp and mouldy vapors 
exhaled. Sir Hugh struck into the one on the left, and 
pursued its tortuous windings, alwa} T s turning in the same 
direction. Pie said to Yernor: 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 119 


“ Remember that you must always turn to the left, for 
if you were to take the opposite direction, you would lose 
your way, and probably perish in these lonely vaults. If 
you flash your light upon the wall, you will see a cross cut 
in the stone at intervals, and they indicate the road to the 
Secret Chamber. Even the old monks found it necessary 
to mark the way.” 

“ It seems to me, sir, that we are circuitously approaching 
the modern portion of the house, and the place we seek 
must be situated somewhere near it.” 

“That may be. I never speculated on the position of 
the room. It is so constructed that its existence would 
never be suspected, and it served a friend well in the days 
of Cromwell. A great man found refuge there, and I 
caused such furniture as was suited to his habits to be re- 
moved thither. You will not find a bare room, though it 
will probably be desolate enough in your estimation.” 

“I thought the secret of this room was known only to 
yourself and the woman who referred to it so strangely; 
j’et you now speak as if others aided you to place furniture 
there,” said Vernor, carelessly. 

“ That is true — two faithful servants helped me ; but they 
are long since dead. All are dead who knew of it except 
the Gipsy ; she guided Lord Trevor from the unfortunate 
field of Edgehill, and besought me to conceal him. I did 
so, and he finally escaped to Holland.” 

This was not an entire fabrication, for the nobleman in 
question had found refuge in the vaults of the Priory, and 
been concealed in the lower chamber while the Roundheads 
sought for him through every nook that was open to them ; 
but he was never made aware of the existence of the upper 
room, for he sat in darkness till the search was ended, and 
then issued from his hiding place to make his escape to the 
sea-coast. 


120 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


At length they reached the termination of their pilgrim- 
age. Sir Hugh bade Vernor remark that two crosses were 
cut in the rock very near each other, followed by a figure 
five, and a straight line a few inches in length. He said : 

“ The double cross indicates that we have gone far 
enough ; the figure and the mark tell you to measure five 
feet in a direct line, and the entrance is found. See if you 
can indicate it.” 

Vernor had a quick eye, and he ran his finger along in 
front of the rugged wall till it rested on a slight protuber- 
ance. 

“ I have found the spring at the first trial,” he said. 
u Is not this the spot, Sir Hugh ? ” 

“Right! You are quick-witted and observant, Vernor ; 
you will make your way in the world.” 

“ I hope so, sir. I intend to try, at all events. And now 
what shall we do next ? ” 

“ Observe how I press downward — so. See the wall, that 
seems so solid,- gives way, and leaves an open space. Let 
us pass- into the vault, from which we will ascend to the 
chamber we seek.” 

“Is there no way of opening the door from within ? It 
would he rather awkward for us if the door were to fall 
back in its place while we are above.” 

“ There is no danger of that; but if such a thing were 
to happen, I know how to open it, and I will show you the 
way to do it.” 

Vernor entered, glanced around the empty room with a 
vague feeling of oppression, and followed his father up the 
staircase. 

They had no sooner disappeared, than the Gipsy glided 
through the opening, and muttered : 

“ Oh, ho ! you will show him how to open it, will you ? 
You would never show me, for you had a vague idea that 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 121 


some day you would shut me up here and leave me to 
perish of starvation. But I’ll find it out now, in spite of 
you, and it may be, use it to good purpose in time to come.” 

She was wrapped in a black cloak, beneath which she 
concealed her dark lantern, and she stepped lightly upon 
the staircase, and stood where she could hear all that passed 
in the chamber above. 

Vernor walked around the apartment, critically examining 
every article it contained, and freely commenting upon 
them. / 

“ Sumptuous tastes your friend, Lord Trevor, must have 
had, Sir. The furniture looks more as if designed for the 
use of a fine lady then a man.” 

“That may well be, for it was taken from the chamber 
that was furnished for my Aunt Blanche Methurn ; she 
eloped from her house with a mau of low degree, and her 
room was closed by the orders of her father. As the furni- 
ture could not be missed, I had it brought hither.” 

“ My Lord must have been a great personage indeed, to 
have such preparations made for him. There are books too, 
that are suited to a lady’s taste. Spencer, Dryden, Chaucer 
with Shakspeare and the Bible, the last looking as if it had 
been long in use. Lord Trevor must have been a bit of a 
Puritan in spite of his sufferings in the royal cause.” 

He had paused in front of a niche in the wall in which a 
praj’er desk was fitted on which rested the volumes he named. 
A crucifix still hung above, dangling from the nail that sus- 
tained it, and a worn hassock covered with hair cloth, was 
upon the floor in front of it. 

Vernor spurned it with his foot, and said : 

“There is a strange reminder of the original use to which 
the room was put. But if this was constructed as a cham- 
ber of penance there must be a recess with the stone coffin 
which the penitent used as a couch. The hangings conceal 


122 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


it, but you must know where it is to be found, father. I 
must see all the horrors, and I shall be glad if you will point 
out the place to look for this model bed of torture. What a 
time the poor devil that lay in it must have had ! shut out 
from all human sympathy, severed from the light of day. 
Oh ! I should go mad under such a fate as that ! ” 

Sir Hugh felt his heart faint within him at this demand, 
and he was strongly tempted to deny the existence of the 
sarcophagus, but he knew that Yernor would return to that 
apartment again, and examine every nook in it, therefore 
he thought it best to tell the truth. He lifted his shaking 
hand, and pointed toward the recess behind the table. Yer- 
nor pushed it aside, and was lifting the hangings, when the 
baronet suddenly remembered the square of velvet on which 
the name and age of his wife were embroidered. This would 
give to his son a clue to the terrible secret connected with 
that chamber, and he rushed forward, clutched the hangings 
which he almost tore down in his eagerness to grasp the 
fatal evidence of his crime. He succeeded in getting pos- 
session of it, and thrust it in his bosom, while Yernor regard- 
ed him with astonishment, in which much suspicion was 
mingled. 

“Really, sir, you seem greatly excited, and I perceive 
that the secrets of this room are not all to be confided to my 
keeping. Pray, what tell-tale trophy have you wrested from 
this stone concern, which it seems some one has taken the 
pains to cover. I expected to find the lid resting against 
the wall.” 

The old man again drew on his invention : 

“ It was open till Lord Trevor came hither. A young 
girl, disguised as a page, fought beside him in the battle of 
Edgehill. In serving him, she received a fatal wound, and 
he held her before him on his horse when he fled from the 
field. She died a few hours after entering this room, and 
was placed in that coffin. The body is still there.” 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 123 


“And the velvet rag you were so anxious to keep from 
my sight has her name upon it I suppose. I should think 
that it can be no object to you to conceal that from me, sir.” 

“ Yes, it is my desire to do so ; for she belonged to a 
noble house, and the world has never known her fate. 
There is no need to betray her name even to you.” 

Yernor listened to this explanation with evident incredu- 
lity, and after a pause, said : 

u 1 have half a mind to look in on the remains of this 
faithful damsel. I am interested in her history; but I 
think you would have done better to make her a grave in 
the vault below.” 

“ There was no time to do that. Come, I am weary and 
sick. Let us leave this spot, for I feel as if I should have 
another attack of my late malady if I remain here much 
longer.” 

The young man looked at his pale face, and saw that he 
really seemed ill. He knew that if Sir Hugh became help- 
less, he could never get him back to his room without assis- 
tance, and he at once said : 

“ Let us go, then. But I may take these books with me, 
I suppose. They came from the library and should be 
restored to it.” 

“ Not to-day. You must assist me, for I feel quite over- 
come with the unusual exertions I have made. Let us 
descend at once, for the air in this room stifles me.” 

With a last lingering glance around, Yernor offered his 
arm to his father, and they prepared to descend the stairs. 

The watcher flitted silently before them, and stood just 
without the entrance while Sir Hugh pointed out to his 
son a spring above the door which would open it from 
within. The two then issued from the aperture, but the 
dark spectre that dogged their steps flitted beyond the 
circle of light made by the lantern, and watched them 
without being herself seen. 


124 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


After closing the door, Sir Hugh said : 

“The way to the open air is shorter than that through 
the chapel, and I must regain it as soon as possible. Be- 
sides, you should also know the outlet toward the wood- 
land.” ” 

Sir Hugh leaned heavily upon the arm that sustained 
him, and more than once he paused to regain his breath, 
for the confined atmosphere of the vaults choked his lungs, 
and caused the blood to rush in a torrent toward his brain. 

They went on to an abrupt turning, where two passages 
crossed each other. Sir Hugh paused here, and impres- 
sively said : 

“Hitherto u T e have turned to the left; from this point, 
at every intersection of these corridors, take the right hand 
passage, and you will safely reach the outer world.” 

Yernor promised to remember, and they went slowly for- 
ward, now followed by a dim figure that stole out of a 
passage in which she had secreted herself until they passed 
on. Occasionally they passed openings from which the 
doors had been broken down in the search for refugees 
during the civil wars. These elaborately constructed vaults 
it was supposed had served as wine cellars and depots for 
provisions in the feudal ages, when every castle and monas- 
tery was a kind of stronghold, in which their dependents 
might gather for security from a sudden raid; for the 
Priory had belonged to a wealthy order, and many were 
entitled to an asylum from the monks in the times of 
trouble. 

After many windings, they reached the outer wall, which 
had crumbled and fallen in around the low door, that 
afforded egress to the park. For a hundred feet the ground 
sloped gradually towards this entrance ; and the bright 
light of day struggled through the thick uuderwood that 
grew close around it. 


TERRORS OF THE SECRET CHAMBER. 125 


The door hung loosely upon its hinges, and the father 
and son passed out into the broad glare of sunshine. Green 
undulations swept away from the walls, covered with rank 
vegetation, and the old trees rustled their unpruned 
branches against each other. Yernor extinguished his 
light, and the two walked on in silence till they gained Sir 
Hugh’s chamber. He sunk into his chair, and wiping the 
gathered moisture from his brow, said : 

“I am glad it is over. Never ask me to go to that den 
again, for such a jaunt quite overcomes me.” 

“ Ma’ny thanks, sir, for the effort you have made to gratify 
my curiosity. I shall make a memorandum of your direc- 
tions for finding the place again, though that will scarcely 
be necessary, for every step of the route is indelibly im- 
printed on my memory. I feel a presentiment that this 
chamber will be of use to me in the future, and it is well to 
know how to enter it. I only wish that the secret of its 
existence was confined to ourselves. How came the Gipsy 
to know anything about it ? ” 

Sir Hugh had expected this inquiry, and he was prepared 
to answer it with another falsehood. 

u She came as the attendant of the young lady who died 
there. You need have no fear so far as she is concerned, for 
she is faithful to my interests.” 

Yernor would have given much to penetrate the mystery 
which linked his father with this wild wanderer ; but he 
felt assured that Sir Hugh would not reveal the truth, and 
he refrained from further questioning. 

Minchen tracked them to the outlet, and then producing 
the dark lantern which her cloak had veiled, retraced her 
steps to the spot they had left. In a few moments she 
stood within the room, and she laughed aloud as she said : 

“ Sir Hugh took my word that every memento of his lady 
wife was removed ; but these books would have told more 


126 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


than he cared to have revealed if the ) r oung one had per- 
sisted in looking over them. I’ll put them out of sight, and 
choose my own time for divulging the darkest horror of this 
lonely place.” 

She gathered the volumes together, and lifting the lid of 
the reading desk, thrust them in a recess in the bottom so 
contrived as to escape observation. Then descending to the 
lower room, she raised her lantern and examined the casing 
of the door till she found the knob which Sir Hugh had 
pointed out to his son. 

il I now know all I care to find out,” she muttered, as she 
passed out and closed the wall behind her. In a short time 
she gained the outlet, and passed through the park toward 
the encampment. 


CHAPTER IX. 
sir Hugh’s plot thickens. 

With silent sorrow Mrs. Methurn saw the influence which 
Vernor was daily acquiring over her young protegee. She 
felt assured that some deep motive lay concealed beneath 
this sudden devotion, and she vainly tried to gain some 
light which might guide her to its solution. 

Both Sir Hugh and his son were impenetrable, and all 
her endeavors were baffled to discover whence came the 
money which was lavished to gratify the slightest caprice 
of the young orphan. 

Letters came from Gerald in which he informed his moth- 
er of his safe arrival at Oxford, and of the energy with which 
he had thrown himself into his studies ; but he did not for- 
get to speak of Ethel, and to say how much he missed her, 


SIR HUGH’S PLOT THICKENS. 127 


how tenderly he remembered her. The child read the letter, 
and she gratefully said : 

“ Dear Gerald ! I only wish he could look in on us, and 
see how things have changed with me. I should like to show 
/ him my beautiful pony, and the lovely dresses Sir Hugh has 
given me. He would hardly know me again in all this 
finery.” 

“ Do you then think that fine clothes would change you 
so much that a loving heart could not recognize you, Ethel ? 
I am afraid the change you rejoice in will prove sad news to 
Gerald.” 

The little girl opened her eyes in astonishment. 

“Why should it?” she asked. “I am far happier than 
I used to be, and if Gerald were only here, I should be as 
gay as a singing bird.” 

“My son will not return to the Priory now. His lot is 
cast far from it, and perhaps it is well that you have learned 
to be happy without him.” 

“ But I am not quite happy, Aunty. I miss Gerald every 
day, in spite of Vernor’s kindness. Tell him that, please, 
and besides, I mean to write him a long letter myself — I 
shall tell him of all my beautiful presents, but I wish Sir 
Hugh would divide the money he pays for them, and give 
Gerald half. I have no right to all these things, and his own 
nephew has.” 

“ My son does not need his uncle’s assistance, my dear. I 
have saved the means to educate him myself, as I did not 
wish him to become a burden on Sir Hugh’s limited for- 
tune.” 

“ He can’t be poor any longer,” said Ethel, “ for if he 
was, he couldn’t afford to buy so many pretty things for 
me.” 

“Perhaps those things are intended to purchase some- 
thing infinitely more precious, my child. Your young 


128 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING}. 


heart is to be won over for some end that is unfathomable 
to me. You will soon cease to think of Gerald in your 
increasing attachment to Yernor.” 

The child flushed deeply, and she quickly said : 

“ Oh, I love them both. They are my dear brothers, and 
Yernor only takes the place left vacant by Gerald’s absence. 
But for his kindness, I should have been so lonely — so 
lonely.” 

“ That is quite true, my love, and I am wrong to speak 
thus. Go to your studies now, and after I have attended to 
my housekeeping, I will come up and give you my usual 
assistance.” 

Ethel ascended to her room, and listlessly turned over her 
books, but her thoughts were with the absent collegian, and 
she wept a few tears as she recalled the words of his mother. 
She felt that she had thought more of Yernor of late, and 
she knew that she was unfaithful to her best friend in per- 
mitting any one to usurp his place in her affections. 

Ethel had scarcely left the room when Yernor entered it, 
and arrested the departure of Mrs. Methurn. 

“ If you have time to listen to me, I have something of 
importance to say to you, Aunt Agnes.” 

“ I was going on my usual rounds for the day, but I can 
stop long enough to hear you, Yernor. I hope your com- 
munications will have more point than any you have lately 
made to me.” 

He laughed gaily and said : 

“ You resent being kept in the dark about Ethel, and it 
is verj' natural that you should do so; but now the time has 
come for an explanation. My father has sent me hither to 
communicate a strange piece of news, which involves pos- 
sible good fortune to her and myself.” 

Mrs. Methurn sat down, and composed herself to listen. 
She asked : 


SIR HUGH’S PLOT THICKENS. 129 


“ Why do you blend Ethel’s fate with your own ? I can- 
not see in what way they can be linked together.” 

“ That is precisely what I am to show you. Your prote- 
gee has become the heiress to a very handsome property, on 
the condition that it shall be shared with myself; that is, 
that she shall become my wife.” 

Mrs. Methurn uttered an exclamation of surprise. 

“ Pray how long is it since this became known to you, 
Vernor ? ” 

“ About the time that Gerald went away,” he carelessly 
replied. “ Since so much was at stake both for Ethel and 
myself, I thought it best to win my little bride^s heart 
before betraying the cause of my sudden devotion. I 
flatter myself that I have succeeded thus far, and if you do 
not influence her against me, she will not refuse to comply 
with the wishes of her mother’s uncle.” 

“I was not aware that she had such a relation ; the 
inheritance then comes from him ? ” 

“You are right. Mr. Winston was the brother of her 
grandfather ; he has lived in Amsterdam for many years, 
engaged in trade. He cared nothing for his family till he 
felt that he was dying, then he caused inquiries to be made 
for them, and he learned that Ethel is the only descendent 
who is still living ; and that she had been taken under the 
protection of my father. By a curious coincidence, Sir 
Hugh had befriended Mr. Winston in early life ; he had 
furnished him with letters of introduction to the commer- 
cial house in Amsterdam by which he was first employed 
as clerk. He finally became its head, but he never forgot 
the kindness of his early friend, and he has taken a most 
romantic and unusual way to prove his gratitude. I his 
letter, written a few days before his death, will explain his 
wishes. It was forwarded among some other papers to Sir 
8 


130 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Hugh by the lawyers of Mr. Winston ; and at the request 
of my father I have brought it to show to you.” 

Mrs. Methurn took the offered letter and carefully 
perused the scrawled and blotted lines purporting to have 
been traced by the feeble hand of a dying man. 

“ Sir Hugh Mrthurn : 

“ Dear Sir, — Go back to the days of your early man- 
hood, and recall a pale, friendless man who casually attracted 
your notice when you called at your lawyer’s office many 
years ago. I was seeking employment, and asked a recom- 
mendation from the lawyer who had known me from my 
childhood. He refused, on the ground that of late years he 
had known little of me, and could not judge of my 
\ qualifications to fill a post of trust. 

“ You heard this refusal, followed me, and satisfying 
yourself that I was qualified to become a clerk, you obtained 
from a friend of yours a situation for me in Amsterdam. 
Though it expatriated me, I gladly accepted the employ- 
ment, for I was on the verge of starvation. 

“I came to this city, and for thirty-five years I have 
never left it. I eventually arose to be a partner in the firm 
into which I was received as a clerk, and I have accumu- 
lated w r ealth. Just as I thought of retiring to enjoy my 
fortune, my health broke down, and nothing remained to 
me but to settle my worldly affairs and die. 

“ I had left a brother with one child in England, but 
after a few years of absence all communication between us 
ceased. Thirty years had nearly elapsed since I heard from 
Thomas Winston or his daughter; but I wished my earn- 
ings to go to the pretty child I remembered with interest. 

I caused such inquiries to be made in England as resulted 
in the certainty that my brother and his child were both 
dead — that the latter had married into a noble family which 


sir Hugh’s plot thickens. 131 


refused to acknowledge her, and after the untimely death 
of her husband, she died of a broken heart, leaving a little 
girl, who, but for your noble generosity, would have been 
thrown upon the world without a protector. 

“You took the orphan to your home, treated her as your 
own child, and deep is my gratitude for the benevolence 
which rescued her from poverty and wretchedness. I have 
since pondered deeply on the means of serving you, and at 
the same time securing the future welfare of my grand- 
niece. 

u I have ascertained that you have one son, a handsome, 
promising youth, who is of suitable age to become the hus- 
band of Ethel Clifton. He must be w’orthy of this trust if 
he resembles you [Yernor winced a little when he wrote 
this], and I wish to secure my heiress from the snares of a 
fortune-hunter. Marriages among minors in England have 
been of common occurrence, and it is my desire that Ethel 
shall become the wife of your son as soon as the marriage 
can be conveniently celebrated. Thus they will jointly be 
endowed with the fortune I wish them equally to enjoy. 

“I have made my will in conformity with this wish; to 
my niece I have bequeathed my estate on the sole condition 
that she accepts your son at once. If she refuses to comply 
with my wishes, the whole of the estate passes uncondition- 
ally to Vernor Methurn, and Ethel will only have a life 
annuity from it of fifty pounds per annum. 

“But she will not refuse to comply with the wish that is 
nearest the heart of her dying uncle. She is too young to 
have a will of her own in such a matter, and it will be best 
for her to grow to womanhood with the certainty that her 
allegiance is due to the husband I have chosen for her. 

“I have directed that she shall remain in the charge of 
Mrs. Methurn, who I am informed has been a second 
mother to her, till she attains her eighteenth year. Then 


132 


A 

THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 

Vernor Methurn will claim her as his wife, and they will 
come in possession of the real estate which is situated in 
Amsterdam. The ready money, which is much the largest 
part of my fortune, will be under your control till then, and 
it is my desire that the income arising from it shall be 
equally shared between Ethel and your son, provided she 
accepts the terms on which it is bequeathed to her. 

“ I have bequeathed to you, my best friend, a thousand 
pounds as a feeble testimonial of my gratitude, and all that 
now remains for me to do is to return my thanks for your 
kindness to my orphan niece. 

<{ Your old friend, 

“Josiah Winston.” 

Beneath this was written in a different hand : 

“ Three days after writing the above, Mr. Winston died, 
and his will is in conformity with the statements made 
therein. Hoover & Brother.” 

Mrs. Methurn perused these lines with a feeling of utter 
bewilderment, and a strong impression that the writer must 
have been slightly insane when he penned them. He must 
have been utterly ignorant of Sir Hugh’s reckless and im- 
provident life, or he would surely never have placed the per- 
son and fortune of Ethel so entirely in his power. Vernor 
watched her face as she read, and he was prepared for the 
question she abruptly asked : 

“ Could Mr. Winston have been in his right mind when 
he laid such an absurd injunction upon a child who is too 
3 r oung to judge of what will be best for her future happi- 
ness ? He must have been aware that marriages between 
minors have rarely led to anything but misery to both 
parties.” 


SIR HUGH’S PLOT THICKENS. 133 


“I do not perceive any evidence of insanity in this pro- 
duction ; on the contrary, I think it is clearly expressed, 
and evinces much forethought for the destiny of Ethel. 
This marriage, I flatter myself, will prove a happy one, in 
spite of your doubt, Aunt Agnes.” 

“ Then, it is really your purpose to accept the terms, and 
irrevocably bind this poor child to you, before she can pos- 
sibly know what her feelings towards you will be when sho 
is old enough to choose a partner for life.” 

“What other course is open to me? If I refuse to com- 
ply with the conditions of the will I disinherit her, for no- 
thing is said except with reference to her refusal.” 

“You can, when you are of age, restore her inheritance 
to her, and allow her to grow up, even to accept or reject 
you as her heart may dictate. A fortune trammeled with 
such conditions is scarcely worth accepting.” 

“Thank you, for your disinterested advice,” replied Ver- 
nor with an ill-concealed sneer. “ I need this money even 
more than Ethel does, and I am quite willing to risk the 
future with her as my wife. I shall not find it difficult to 
love her, and she seems as well disposed towards me as I 
could wish. That is, since Gerald went away, and I shall 
not trust to the chances of being rivalled by him in the 
future. Once mine by an indissoluble tie, Ethel will know 
that to me belongs her allegiance, and she will grow to 
womanhood feeling that it is her duty to love me.” 

Mrs. Methurn flushed slightly at the allusion to her son, 
and fearing that opposition from her would lead Yernor to 
misconstrue her motives, she said : 

“ If such is your resolution, I, of course, can do nothing 
to defeat the wishes of the deceased Mr. Winston. My son 
and Ethel are strongly attached to each other, but it is as 
sister and brother. You need fear no attempt at rivalry 
from him. Gerald wooed the friendless child, but the heir- 
ess he will never seek.” 


134 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ Ah, well, I don’t pretend to be such a preux chevalier 
as my cousin. I am deucedlj T in want of money, and this 
comes just at the right moment. I think Ethel is a charm- 
ing little creature, and I become quite romantic when I 
think of our future. I shall go abroad immediately after 
our union, leaving her to your care till she attains the age 
prescribed by her uncle. I shall keep alive her interest in 
myself by writing to her the most tender letters, and her 
imagination will naturally deck me in the most attractive 
garb. When I return to claim her, I shall find her more in 
love with me than if we had remained near each other.” 

“ And if you do not fill the ideal she has formed, what will 
be her fate? It is a fearful risk, Yernor, and may wreck 
both her happiness and your own.” 

“ It is a risk I am willing to take. I shall return a pol- 
ished man of the world, fitted to win the heart of any 
woman, and to Ethel, the devotion of my life shall be 
given.” 

Mrs. Methurn sighed deeply. 

“ So you think now, but in all these years your child- 
bride will be forgotten. You have strong passions, Yernor, 
and you will love desperately. Leave yourself free to 
choose. Divide Ethel’s fortune with her, and wait till she 
is grown. By the conditions of the will this seems to be in 
your power.” 

“ That would be a positive injustice to Ethel, and I am 
unwilling to accept any portion of her inheritance uiiless she 
becomes my wife. But, as I said before, I need this money 
too much to relinquish it.” 

“It will be a much greater wrong to make her yours at 
her tender years. Blit I have said all that I can to move 
you from your purpose. I see that you are inflexible, and 
much as I deprecate this haste to rush into a net that may 
yet bind you both as with bonds of iron, I can say no more.” 


SIR HUGH’S PLOT THICKENS. 135 


“ It is a wise determination, Aunt Agnes ; for my mind 
is made up, and if you do not interfere in any way, I shall 
gain the consent of Ethel without much difficulty. Promise 
me that you will let the affair take its own course.” 

u I must see Sir Hugh before I pledge myself to any- 
thing.” she replied. “ Possibly he may see the force of my 
objections.” 

“ You are mistaken there, Aunty. See him by all means, 
and he will show you that my immediate union with Ethel 
is our only salvation from utter ruin. I will see my little 
love and show her the brilliant prospects that open before 
her as my future wife.” 

Vernor took up the letter, and lounged out of the room. 
Mrs. Methurn, in a state of intense excitement, went at 
once to Sir Hugh. 

She found him seated before a table covered with papers, 
over which he seemed to be gloomily pondering. He looked 
up on her entrance, and said: “Is that you, Agnes? Sit 
down and tell me why you look so pale. Has anything un- 
pleasant happened ? ” 

“ You are aware of what Vernor has just communicated 
to me, Sir Hugh. Is not that sufficient cause for excite- 
ment? I have come to you in the hope that you can be 
induced to see how much evil may spring from the marriage 
Mr. Winston so strangely desired. This fortune is a poor 
boon to Ethel if it must be won by the sacrifice of her free- 
dom while she is yet an infant.” 

" Eeally, Mrs. Methurn, you take a very singular view of 
this affair. Mr. Winston wishes to secure the happiness of 
his niece, and estimating my son as I do, I think he has 
taken an excellent method of doing so. I shall manage my 
ward’s fortune ; you will educate her for her future position ; 
Vernor will be preserved from the snares of the world by 
the responsibility he thus early assumes.” 


136 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“But, Sir Hugh, they are unsuited to each other. But 
for this bequest your son would never have thought of Ethel 
as his wife. He will not love and cherish her as so tender a 
creature should be cherished. The day will come when Ver- 
nor will loathe the tie that binds him to her.” 

“ Really, Mrs. Methurn, I was not before aware that you 
are a sibyl who can foretell the future. I see no such pro- 
bability ; on the contrary, my son is strongly attached to the 
child. He will make her a suitable husband, and it is my 
wish that the marriage shall take place without delay. 
Only through gaining control of this money can I escape 
ruin. It will come just in time to save the Priory from 
falling into the hands of my creditors; and without it we 
shall soon be without a roof to shelter us. No windfall 
could .have been more opportune.” 

Mrs. Methurn listened in surprise. 

“ I thought we had lived so as to save money, sir. I 
had no idea that you are again embarrassed.” 

“ I have endeavored to economize, but some claims of long 
standing have recently come against me with their accumu- 
lated interest ; my estate is not entailed, and if I cannot 
meet these demands all will be swept away. Ethel’s fortune 
will enable me to redeem the old place; but I will never 
touch a penny of it until she becomes Vernor’s bride. It 
would be a breach of trust that would cover me with 
infamy.” 

Sir Hugh spoke as if he were the most honorable and high- 
minded of men, instead of one who was planning a most 
shameful fraud for the purpose of imposing on the only true 
friend possessed by the poor victim he intended to immolate 
on the shrine of his avarice. 

Mrs. Methurn firmly said : 

“ I am sorry that your affairs are so much deranged ; but I 
still think it will be better to use your own bequest of a 


SIR HUGH’S PLOT THICKENS. 137 


thousand pounds to extricate yourself for the present; when 
Vernor is of age he can claim a portion of this money and 
help you out of your difficulties. It is the most singular 
will I ever heard of, and leaves painful doubts on my mind 
as to Mr. Winston’s capacity to make one at all.” 

“ It is made, at all events, and there is no one to dispute 
its validity. The bequest you refer to would not suffice for 
ni3 T present necessities ; Ethel, as my daughter-in-law, can 
save me from ruin. Simply as my ward, I should have to 
account for every penny of her fortune; for Vernor shall 
never accept any portion of it unless he becomes her husband. 
He likes the child ; she is evidently fond of him, and every- 
thing can be speedily settled on a satisfactory footing, if 
you will do your part.” 

“ My part, Sir Hugh, if honorably performed, will be to 
set before Ethel all the wretched possibilities of the future 
in entering into such a covenant as this. It promises noth- 
ing but misery to your son and your ward.” 

The baronet’s face became purple, and with much difficul- 
ty he repressed an explosion of wrath. With extreme state- 
liness he replied : 

“I have only to inform you, Mrs. Methurn, that if you 
circumvent me in this affair, I shall remove ray ward from 
your care and place her in a boarding-school. I have the 
entire control of her person, and I shall carry out my plan of 
uniting her to Vernor in spite of any opposition you may 
make.” 

Mrs. Methurn arose ; she was very pale, but she saw that 
further remonstrance was useless. She said : 

“ That is sufficient, Sir Hugh. I see that the wrong you 
meditate will be consummated at all hazards, and I can 
only pray for my poor child, and prepare her to face the 
cruel fate which takes from her the first privilege of woman- 
hood— that of choosing the companion of her future life. I 


138 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


shall not risk having Ethel removed from me, for I am her 
only true friend. 1 yield to necessity, and I promise to say 
nothing that can prejudice her mind against the marriage on 
which you have determined. You can trust me, for you 
know that I have never violated my plighted word.” 

. Sir Hugh knew that he could trust her, and he blandly 
said : 

“ I was sure that you would listen to reason, Agnes. It 
would have pained me deeply to remove the child from your 
maternal care ; but I must have done so if you had arrayed 
yourself against the interests of my son.” 

“ You will require a copy of the will to he forwarded to 
you, of course. I shall be glad to see it when it arrives.” 

“ Certainly ; when it arrives you shall examine it as 
carefully as you desire. Prepare your protegee to give her 
hand to Yernor before the close of the present month, for it 
is necessary to send him to Amsterdam as her husband, 
that he may have full authority to settle up the estate of 
Mr. Winston.” 

“ So soon ! Yet if it must be, what difference can a few 
weeks make ? I shall obey you, Sir Hugh ; but I do it with 
extreme reluctance ; and on your conscience must rest the 
evil that may result from this most unsuitable alliance.” 

“I am quite willing to hear it. Perhaps if your son 
were the prospective bridegroom you would have fewer 
scruples to overcome.” 

Mrs. Methurn calmly regarded him as she replied : 

“ Perhaps I should ; for Gerald and Ethel are tenderly 
attached to each other. He is less erratic in his disposition 
than Yernor, and he would deeply feel the responsibility he 
would thus assume. But were he the bridegroom, I should 
equally oppose the plighting of children’s hands before their 
hearts have had an opportunity to speak. It is a cruel in- 
justice, for which no material prosperity can atone.” 


THE GIPSY ATTENDS THE WEDDING. 139 


“ Enough, Agnes ; let us end this discussion. You un- 
derstand my wishes, and you know of old that I am inflexi- 
ble where I have determined on a course of action.” 

He waved his hand, and Mrs. Methurn retired, feeling the 
futility of any further attempt to move him. She walked to 
and fro in the wide hall, endeavoring to compose herself and 
lift from her heart the oppressive weight that had fallen on 
it. She knew that Vernor was selfish, hard-hearted, sarcas- 
tic and self-indulgent ; that few restraints of principle with- 
held him from any course that promised enjoyment or 
aggrandizement; and his career as a man, with the means 
of dissipation in his hands, she felt assured would not be 
such as to fit him to become the guardian to the sensitive 
and refined child he wished to bind to himself by bonds 
which only death might sever. 

Yet she was powerless to prevent this great wrong to 
Ethel. Sir Hugh possessed unlimited control over her fate, 
and he would use it to the utmost in support of his own 
views. To retain her darling with her, she must acquiesce 
in his plans bitterly as she was opposed to them. 


• CHAPTER X. 

THE GIPSY ATTENDS THE WEDDING. 

Mrs. Methurn went upon her daily rounds, gave orders 
for the dinner, sent medicine and nourishment to the sick 
poor in the neighborhood, and then, with a sad heart, 
ascended to her chamber. 

Mrs. Methurn had seen Vernor riding across the park, and 
she knew that Ethel was alone, yet she shrank from seeing 
her — from learning how she had received the communication 


140 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


he had made to her. When the child heard her enter her 
room, she came through the door which opened into her own 
apartment, looking pale and bewildered. Her eyes met 
those of her protectress, and she threw herself upon her 
bosom with a burst of weeping. 

“ Oh, Aunty — dear Aunty — what shall I do? Yernor 
says that I must marry him; that my uncle has left me 
money on the condition that 1 shall do so. But I am such 
a little girl ; and what will Gerald say ? He always called 
me his little wife, and — somehow I thought that — that I 
belonged to him, and to you.” 

“ My Ethel, you are too young to have thought of mar- 
riage with any one, and I am sorry that such a decision is 
pressed upon you now'. I can only tell you to pray for 
guidance, and He w'ho loved little children will show you 
the right path.” 

The child lifted her head, with a faint smile through her 
tears. She softly said : 

“ Yes — I will pray to God, and He will comfort me. 
Vernor says that I shall stay with you ; that till I am 
eighteen I am not to go with him. But he is going aw r ay 
very soon, and I shall be left without either of my friends. 
If I only thought that Gerald would like me to marry him, 
I should not mind much, for Vernor is very good to me of 
late, aud he promised to send me the ifiost beautiful pres- 
ents from Holland, where he means to go.” 

This childish prattle, in the most momentous crisis of her 
life, pained the listener deeply ; but what w'as to be expected 
of so young a creature, but that she should be dazzled and 
won over by the promises of so smooth a talker as Vernor. 
Mrs. Methurn sat down, drew Ethel beside her, and gravely 
said : 

“ Put Gerald out of the question entirely, my love. He 
loves you as a brother, and will rejoice in the news of your 


THE GIPSY ATTENDS THE WEDDING. 141 


good fortune. I have promised Sir Hugh to say nothing 
against this marriage, precipitate as it seems, and it only 
rests with 3-011 to decide whether you will obey 3 7 our uncle’s 
wishes, and give 3 T our freedom awa} T , or accept the alterna- 
tive of relinquishing your fortune.” 

“But Vernor declares that he, too, will lose all; for he 
will accept nothing that I do not give him as — as my — 
Oh, Aunty — isn’t it ridiculous to talk of a husband for such 
a little thing as I am ! ” and, with childish thoughtlessness, 
she laughed aloud. 

“ But that is what he said, and he showed me so much 
that he can do with this money ; he can save his father 
from ruin if he gets it, and it seems to me wrong to let poor 
Sir Hugh want what I can give him. Yes, if you think 
Gerald will not care very much, I believe it will be right to 
do as Sir Hugh wishes.” 

Mrs. Methurn sighed heavily; she knew it would be a 
severe blow to her son, but she could say nothing. She had 
plighted her word, and Ethel must be yielded to the fate 
that had been decreed to her, without interference on her 
part. The child naturally interpreted her silence into 
acquiescence, and she prattled on : 

“ Vernor says that he will get me a harpsichord, and I 
shall learn how to play^ on it ; that he will travel on the 
Continent with me when I am old enough ; and 0I1 ! Aunty, 
he has promised me a pon} 7 phaeton, with a footman in 
liver}'. Won’t that be grand? then we can drive about the 
country in style.” 

“Yes, my dear; you will be able to afford all those 
things,” replied Mrs. Methurn, absently. “No doubt Ver- 
nor will be liberal enough toward ) T ou, so far as mone} 7 is 
concerned. He is naturally lavish.” 

“ Yes, he is very generous; and — and I think I can love 
him, Aunty. He says I must think of him always as my 


142 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


dearest friend, for he will love me as his child-bride, and 
look forward to the time when we can always be together. 
Shall I write to Gerald, and tell him myself what a strange 
thing I am going to do ? ” 

“If you choose, Ethel. I shall write at the same time, 
and explain to him what has happened to render such a 
course necessary.” 

“ I am afraid he won’t like it ; hut what can I do ? I 
wish my uncle hadn’t made such a strange will. If he had 
left me his fortune to do with as I please, I would have 
given Sir Hugh enough to pay his debts; but he wanted 
me to marry Vernor, and I suppose it is my duty to do so.” 

“It is your fate, Ethel, and no one can escape that,” 
replied her friend, sighing deeply. “ I could say much that 
my heart dictates, but it would be useless ; and if I oppose 
the wishes of Sir Hugh and his son, I risk being separated 
from you altogether ; therefore I refrain. You have 
become as dear to me as my own child, and I could not 
bear to have you torn from me and placed among stran- 
gers.” 

“Oh! if there is any fear of that, I will do whatever 
they wish. Could Sir Hugh remove me from you ? ” 

“ He is appointed the guardian of your estate and person, 
and if he desired to send you away, no one could interfere. 
He told me that he should send you to a boarding-school if 
I set myself in opposition to him.” 

“Then I must marry Yernor, for I never could bear to 
be taken away from the dear old Priory, and you, whom I 
love so dearly. Yes, Aunty — I see that I must marry Ver- 
nor. I will go now, and write to Gerald.” 

She arose, and slowly went toward her own room, all the 
brightness faded out of her face, all the elasticity gone from 
her childish steps. She sat down, and wrote the following 
lines : 


THE GIPSY ATTENDS THE WEDDING. 143 


“ Dear Gerald : — 1 have had a fortune left me by m/ 
mother’s uncle on the condition that I shall be Yernor’s 
little wife and not yours. I hope you will not take this 
very hard, though at first it seemed hard to me to change 
you for him. But Sir Hugh says it must be so, and I shall 
be sent away to a dreadful boarding-school if I refuse to do 
what he wants me to. 

“ 1 shall always love you as my dear brother, and I hope 
you won’t think me ungrateful. This is a very poor letter, 
but my heart is so full that 1 do not know what to say. 
Your Ethel, no — Yernor’s Ethel, but your fast friend. 

“ Ethel Clifton.” 

Mrs. Methurn enclosed this artless epistle to her son ; the 
days went on, and Ethel was kept in a continued state of 
excitement by the bridal presents that were brought in for 
her. Everything that could enchant a childish heart was 
ordered from London, and at last came a fairy-like dress 
covered with silver spangles and embroidery, in which she 
was to appear at the altar. 

Ho one was bidden to the bridal, for Sir Hugh did not 
care to have the event canvassed in the neighborhood. 
Others might learn the contents of the will really made by 
Mr. Winston, and comprehend why he married his infant 
ward to his son. 

The pony phaeton arrived, and in it Mrs. Methurn and 
her young charge were whirled to the parish church, where 
the ceremony was performed by the curate. Mrs. Methurn 
had taken care to exact from Yernor a written pledge that 
he would leave Ethel under her charge till she attained her 
eighteenth year. This he readily gave, for he knew that 
once secure of her fortune, he should be in no hurry to claim 
his bride. 

At the church door the young couple parted, and Yernor 


144 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


set out for London whence he was to embark for Holland. 
Ethel wept a few tears but she was soon consoled, and Mrs. 
Methurn returned to the Priory to find a letter from Gerald, 
in reply to hers. One passage ran thus : 

“ Oh, mother, I loved this little child too, too dearly, to 
think with calmness of the fate my uncle has prepared for 
her. Vernor will make her miserable, and m3 7 own heart 
feels as desolate as if the grave had closed over my dearest 
friend. Ethel is but a child, and I am very young to feel a 
profound attachment, but she has wound herself into my 
heart by showing, unconsciously, all the sweet and tender 
impulses of her nature, until I felt as if she was soul of my 
soul, life of m3 7 life. Her uncle’s bequest has proved a fatal 
gift to her, I sadly fear; but I must cease to think of the 
possible evil in store for her. M3 7 cousin may mature into a 
better man than his youth promises, and I pr«3 7 to God that 
it ma3 T prove so. If he only makes Ethel liapp3 7 , I can for- 
give him for wresting her from me.” 

A few lines were enclosed for Ethel, in which he wished 
her much happiness in her new position, and spoke of him- 
self as devoted to his studies. The child read them over 
and over with a feeling of disappointment she could not con- 
ceal. She said to his mother : 

“ Gerald thinks that I have treated him badl3 r , but how 
could I refuse to obe3 T Sir Hugh ? Dear Gerald, I hope he 
will become a great man some day.” 

Mrs. Methurn kissed her, and replied: 

“ Think no more of Gerald, my love. He is wrapped up 
in his books, and your duty is now due to Vernor. He is 
half jealous of 3’our fondness for 013" son already^ and ) r ou 
will do well to forget your early friend.” 

Ethel flushed deeply, and she quickly replied : 


THE GIPSY ATTENDS THE WEDDING. 145 


“ That I never will do. Gerald taught me nearly all I 
know ; he was always gentle and kind with me, and Vernor 
shall never make me forget him. He shall always be my 
friend and brother.” 

“ As a devoted brother you may indeed regard him, Ethel, 
for in every strait in life be sure he will stand firmly by you, 
as if you were indeed his sister.” 

Before leaving the Priory, Vernor had again visited the 
Secret Chamber, and to his intense chagrin found that the 
books from which he hoped to discover something concern- 
ing its last tenant were missing. He concluded at once that 
Sir Hugh had removed them, but he knew it would be use- 
less to ask him why he had done so. 

His suspicions were confirmed that the truth had not been 
revealed to him, and he again sought the Gipsy, in the hope 
that she might be induced to betray something. 

He fouud the encampment broken up, and the band dis- 
persed. As he rode slowly over the ground they had lately 
occupied, the woman of whom he was thinking suddenly 
emerged from a narrow pathway, and accosted him: 

“ I knew that you would seek me, and I have tarried 
here to await your coming. What have you now to say to 
me ? ” 

“I sought you to renew the offer I lately made. Tell me 
the whole mystery of this concealed room, and I will nobly 
reward you. Who was its last occupant, and is Sir Hugh’s 
assertion true, that a young girl, slain in defence of her lover, 
lies in the coffin ? ” 

“ So-o — you doubt the word of your father, young man. 
A most dutiful son, truly, but how should / know w ? ho lies 
buried in that receptacle? Yet I will enlighten you thus 
far; the remains of a fair woman who died in her youth, do 
lie there ; let that suffice for th& present ; the day may come 

9 


146 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


when you shall learn more, but you must win your right to 
know, by a deed similar to that which laid her there.” 

il You speak in enigmas. I shall never take part in a civil 
war, as Lord Trevor did, and still less should I hope to have 
a devoted woman thrust herself between me and danger.” 

The Gipsy laughed sardonically. 

“ Never fear but that you will rush into danger when it is 
to be found, and the air in the land thickens with portentous 
clouds. When the king lays down his crown at the feet of 
death, it will be snatched at by both son and brother. Strife, 
deadly peril will ensue, and you will mingle in it. Your 
line of life is crossed with many dangers, but you will not 
perish in the battle-field.” 

“ How then shall I meet my doom ? ” involuntarily asked 
the young man. 

“A jealous and outraged woman shall be the minister of 
fate to you.” 

He laughed aloud : 

“The gentle child who shortly becomes my bride, will 
never have nerve to strike a fatal blow. Go to — you are but 
a blind prophet.” 

“ Wait, and see what time will bring forth, then judge of 
my skill in divination. It is true, then, that you are to 
marry 1 he child who has inherited wealth from an old dotard 
who had net the wit to secure his earnings to her. Hearken 
to my words — When the same fate comes to Ethel Clifton 
as was given to her who lies in the stone sarcophagus , I 
will reveal to you the mystery of the sec/ret chamber , not 
before .” 

“ Then I shall never know it, for Ethel will never be called 
on to expose her own life in defence of mine.” 

The wild laugh of the woman again rang out, and with- 
out further acffeu, she disappeared by a winding path that 
led into the heart of the woodland. Vernor felt that it 


vernor’s ambition. 


147 


would be useless to follow her, for she could easily evade his 
pursuit in the windings of the forest, and he rode rapidly 
away. 

On the morning of the marriage, Minchen and her son 
stood outside of the church, and listened to the merry peal 
the bells were ringing in honor of the event. As the bridal 
party passed into the house, Melchoir spoke to his mother 
in suppressed tones : 

“ The blows he gave me yet burn upon my flesh, yet you 
bid me hold my hand. He goes away to-day, and I may 
lose hi3 track for years. Why then shall I not strike him 
when I have the chance ?” 

“ Bide your time, my son, for the chances of fate will yet 
place his destiny in your hands. I have read it through my 
skill, and until he comes within the net himself, you will be 
powerless against him. Life is before j’ou both, then where- 
fore seek to hurry events ? They will happen in their own 
good time.” 

u Are you sure that I shall yet have him in my power ? 
I can wait years, years, if that day will come at last,” he sav- 
agely replied. 

“ It shall come , trust to me,” and the two moved away 
as silently as they had come. 


CHAPTER XI. 

vernor’s ambition. 

Vernor reached Amsterdam in safety, and found no diffi- 
culty in getting possession of the money left by Mr. Winston. 
In anticipation of his decease, that gentleman had nearly 
wound up his affairs, and the young gentleman found nearly 


148 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


.forty thousand pounds lying in his banker’s hands ready for 
use. Six thousand more were invested in English securities, 
and the remainder in real estate in Amsterdam. 

The lawyers were much astonished when Vernor pre- 
sented himself as the husband of the heiress, and demanded 
the unconditional possession of her fortune : bjit he bore 
from Sir Hugh such authority as compelled them to surren- 
der it to him. The baronet possessed unlimited control over 
both Ethel and her fortune, and evident as it was to the 
shrewd lawyers that the child was to be defrauded of her 
inheritance, they had no right to refuse to obey the condi- 
tions of the will. 

Vernor had brought letters of introduction to several of 
his father’s old friends who were living at the Hague as 
political exiles, and as he had a desire to see the court of the 
Prince of Orange, he went thither as soon as he had 
possessed himself of the means to make a brilliant appear- 
ance. 

He was received with the courtesy which was extended to 
all Englishmen of good position by William and his wife, 
who, as the eldest daughter of the Duke of York, was in 
the direct line of succession to the English throne. 

After a few weeks of dissipation and sight-seeing, Vernor 
wearied of the monotony of Dutch life, and flitted over to a 
more congenial locality. He sp'ent the winter in Paris, and 
from there travelled into Italy in company with a party of 
gay young men who were as devoted to pleasure as himself. 
He spent his newly-acquired wealth with a free hand, seldom 
thinking of her from whom it was derived; but he was 
careful to write every month to Ethel, and to send her such 
things as he thought would please her childish fancy. 

His letters showed the tact with which he could accom- 
odate himself to the thoughts and feelings of one so much 
younger than himself, and Ethel thought them the most 


vernor’s ambition. 


149 


charming productions, especially as they were always accom- 
panied by elegant and tasteful gifts both for herself and 
Mrs. Metbnrn. 

The latter Vernor usually sent to her, that she might have 
the gratification of presenting them herself to his aunt; 
and the cjiild appreciated the thoughtful kindness which 
enabled her to show her gratitude to her second mother in so 
agreeable a manner. 

Mrs. Methurn could not refuse these offerings, yet she 
sighed over the numerous evidences of Vernor’s extrava- 
gance, and justly feared that Ethel’s fortune would all be 
dissipated before she was old enough to enjoy it rationally. 
She soon penetrated the shallow fraud practised on her by 
Vernor, with the concurrence of his father, for when pressed 
to show her a copy of the will of Mr. Winston, Sir Hugh 
finally drew forth the real document and coolly informed her 
that the letter purporting to have been written by that 
gentleman had been composed by Vernor himself for the 
purpose of disarming her opposition to the premature mar- 
riage of her protegee. 

Mrs. Methurn expressed her indignant surprise at such 
unprincipled conduct, but Sir Hugh only laughed at her 
scruples, and assured her that she had most antediluvian 
ideas of honor and good faith ; that all strategems were fair 
in love and war. 

She replied with emotion : 

“ If love had been the motive of Vernor, I might forgive 
him for sacrificing my darling. But by your own confession 
he was moved only by the desire to gain possession of the 
wealth which I sincerely wish had never been bequeathed to 
Ethel. You have carried your point, Sir Hugh, but I sadly 
fear that the future will cause you to repent bitterly of the 
course you have pursued.” 

“ Oh, well, let the future take care of itself ; my care was 


150 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


to provide for the present. I have secured a home to you 
and Ethel, and freed myself from my most pressing embar- 
rassments. The child seems very well contented with her 
lot, for she blossoms like a rose in the sunshine.” 

“ Yes — she is happy with me ; but the question that is 
most important to her is, will she be happy with Vernor? 
Will he care whether she is so or not?” 

“ Really, Mrs. Methurn, you are ingenious in tormenting 
yourself. My son is forming himself into an elegant and 
accomplished man of the world ; when the time comes to 
claim Ethel as his wife he will treat her with the courtesy 
due to her as such. As to romantic devotion, and all that 
nonsense, of course their early marriage precludes all such 
demonstrations. If you rear her with correct ideas of duty, 
she will step into the sphere for which she is designed, and 
make herself contented, even if her husband does not pro- 
fess to adore her. Vernor likes her well enough, and if she 
shows , that she properly appreciates him, he will always 
treat her well.” 

This was promising little enough, but Mrs. Methurn was 
far from believing that Vernor would even come up to that 
standard. The utter want of principle he had shown in the 
whole affair convinced her that his only object was to obtain 
the means of ministering to his own gratification, without a 
thought or a care for the future happiness of his young 
victim. 

She retired from the interview with a heavy foreboding of 
evil pressing upon her heart, which subsequent events did 
not tend much to lighten. 

As time passed on, vague rumors of Vernor’ s continental 
career reached her which confirmed her worst fears; but 
these were carefully kept from Ethel, who was conscien- 
tiously learning the lesson set for her, and the image of 
Vernor gradually blended itself with every hope or aspira- 
tion for happiness. 





vernor’s ambition. 


151 


Gerald remained two years at Oxford, and tlien entered 
the office of Mr. Ctyde, who, in consideration of hi9 early 
friendship for Captain Methurn, received him without the 
usual fee, and pledged himself to advance his interests as 
rapidly as possible. He thought the young man possessed 
abilities of a high order, and he predicted great Success for 
him in his future career. 

This cheered the heart of his mother, and delighted Ethel, 
for her affectionate heart still clung to Gerald as her first and 
best friend. She felt no wrong to Vemor in the tender feel- 
ing she cherished for him she called her brother, and inno- 
cent, and inexperienced, she carried within her heart the 
germ of a passion which might yet arise and overshadow 
every other feeling. Should Vernor prove faithless, or in- 
different, in the recoil of the affection she cultivated as a 
matter of duty, she would naturally turn for consolation to 
him who had been her truest and most valued friend from 
infancy. 

Vernor was so much charmed with his continental experi- 
ence that he remained abroad six years, merely making two 
brief visits to the Priory during that time. He had become 
dashing, brilliant, fastidious, and ennuye , and the freshness 
and simplicity of Ethel was sufficiently attractive to him to 
induce him to keep up a show of regard during his short 
stay; but, child as she was, she vaguely felt the want of 
something, she could not tell what, in the handsome and dis- 
tingue man into which he had matured. 

When the sudden and unexpected death of Charles II. 
occurred, he came again from the Hague, where he had 
been residing for the last year, as one of the gentlemen at- 
tached to the Duke of Monmouth’s train. That nobleman 
had been implicated in one of the many plots that convulsed 
England during the merry monarch’s reign, and he had re- 
tired to the court of his cousin, the Princess of Orange. 


152 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


At the Hague the many genial qualities of Monmouth 
rendered him extremely popular, and the brilliant fetes given 
at the court in his honor, attracted many such idlers as Ver- 
nor Methurn to its precincts. Accident enabled him to 
perform a trifling service for the Duke, and on learning who 
he was, and what part of England he came from, Monmouth 
took some pains to attach him to his person. 

He remembered with interest the progress he had once 
made through the western portion of his father’s dominions, 
when the enthusiasm of the people had arisen to a hight 
seldom witnessed among them. The roads through which 
he passed were lined with shouting multitudes, and his path- 
way was strewn with flowers. Both gentry and yeomen 
turned out to meet him, and he entered Exeter with an 
escort of five thousand horsemen. 

Monmouth knew that he was the idol of the people ; that 
among them existed a wide-spread belief that a marriage 
had really taken place between Charles and his mother; and 
he cherished the belief that the masses in England would 
gladly elevate him to the throne in preference to his uncle, 
the fanatical and cruel James. 

The sudden death of Charles, while apparently in the 
enjoyment of robust health, filled Monmouth with despair; 
for with its announcement came the news that his uncle 
had been proclaimed King of England, and no party had 
arisen to assert his own claim to the throne. 

For a season he retired to Brussels, and withdrew himself 
from all intercourse with the exiled Whigs, who were con- 
stantly plotting to regain their footing in their native land; 
but such influences were brought to bear upon him, as 
re-awakened his old ambition, and he gradually lent his ear 
to the plans of these plotters. He despatched confidential 
agents to England to mingle among the people, and, as far 
as was practicable, to ascertain their feelings toward him in 
the event of a descent on the country. 


vernor’s ambition. 


153 


Vernor was one of these, and he performed the mission 
entrusted to him with perfect faith in the right of his pat- 
ron to ascend the throne of England. The contents of the 
celebrated black box had been shown to him under the 
strictest seal of secrecy, and the papers it contained, proved, 
if genuine, that a marriage had actually taken place be- 
tween Charles Stuart and Lucy Walters. 

It was to Vernor’s interest to believe them genuine, for 
Monmouth promised the most brilliant rewards to such of 
his immediate followers as would serve him faithfully in the 
attempt he contemplated making. 

Vernor thought it best to take Sir Hugh into his confi- 
dence, but the old man listened with consternation to the 
plans developed by his son, and protested vehemently 
against his becoming involved in them. Vernor derided his 
scruples, and asked him if he had forgotten his own devo- 
tion to the cause of Charles I. 

“ That was a different case,” replied Sir Hugh. 11 1 took 
up arms in defense of the reigning sovereign ; you propose 
to exclude the lawful heir from the throne, and elevate to it 
a man of doubtful legitimacy. However depressed in for- 
tune Charles Stuart may have been during his wanderings 
on the Continent, he would never have given his hand to a 
woman of low birth. Besides, we have his positive asser- 
tion, made to his council, that no such marriage took place. 
My dear Vernor, James is a hard man, and a tyrant in 
grain. This raid must fail, and those who take part in it 
will be punished with the utmost severity. Do not again 
return to Holland, but write to Monmouth that it will be 
madness to undertake to wrest the crown from his uncle.” 

“ But, Sir Hugh, that would be a falsehood. I have 
travelled through many counties, and I have found the peo- 
ple everywhere devoted to the gallant Duke, and mistrust- 
ful of the morose King who has seized on the reins of 


154 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


government. My colleagues make the same report of the 
sections allotted to them, and I can safety assert that before 
many months have rolled away, the masses will be ripe for 
a revolt against the authority of James. He does nothing 
to conciliate, and much to exasperate those opposed to 
him.” 

“ That may be so; but if a change of rulers be found 
necessary, the Princess of Orange will be chosen in prefer- 
ence to the illegitimate son of Charles.” 

“ She has no hold on the affections of the people, and 
Monmouth has. Besides, it would be a shameful thing for 
Mary to dethrone her father and step into his place.” 

“Princes think little of those things, and her husband is 
not a man to relinquish his just rights. Monmouth will 
have two adversaries to contend against ; the present King, 
who holds the reins of government with a tenacious grasp, 
and a great and experienced statesman like William of 
Orange, who will never suffer his claims to be passed over. 
Believe me, the odds are too greatly against your hero ever 
to permit him to succeed. He will only involve himself 
and his followers in irretrievable ruin.” 

Yernor smiled incredulously. 

“Age has made you over cautious, sir. I throw my 
fortune on the tide of events as you did in your youth, and 
I have few fears as to the result. We shall not hurry our 
plans ; we will secretly mature them, while James is alien- 
ating all classes from him by the arbitrary measures he has 
already commenced. In a short time it will be good policy 
to make a descent on England ; and I, for one, shall not 
shrink from the venture. You will yet see me wearing the 
ermine as a peer in the Court of King James III.” 

“If I thought such would be the result I should not 
oppose you ; but I have had much experience ; I have seen 
one civil war, and I shrink from the mere thought of 


ver nor’s ambition. 


155 


another. Since you do not contemplate immediate action, 
I am better contented ; for I shall live in the hope that 
something will arise to prevent the outbreak altogether. 
Without the strongest inducements from men in power, the 
Duke will risk everything by landing on these shores and 
raising the flag of rebellion.” 

“ He will have the support of all classes, Sir; I am con- 
vinced of that. But nothing will be done without due 
deliberation, I assure you.” 

“ In that case nothing will be attempted, if Monmouth 
has capable advisers. What great English lords are pledged 
to his cause ? ” 

With some hesitation Yernor replied : 

“ Hone are exactly pledged to him ; but the whole Whig 
party has so long been crushed under foot that they will 
gladly avail themselves of the opportunity to rise against 
the present government. Many men of talents who are 
exiles in Holland have joined the Duke’s party ; they are 
willing to risk every danger for the chance to return to their 
own country.” 

“ Therefore they are not safe advisers. Those men have 
nothing to lose and everything to gain if the attempt 
should prove successful. Name a few of them, that I may 
judge of their ability to serve so desperate a cause.” 

“ There is Lord Grey of Wark.” 

“ A man of respectable abilities and pleasing address, but 
whose influence is weakened by his immoral character. 
There is not much to hope from him.” 

“ There is Ay Ioffe.” 

“ A man of courage and talent, but unreliable ; and the 
Puritan element on which Monmouth must chiefly rely has 
long since pronounced him unworthy of trust. He will add 
little strength to your party. Who comes next ? ” 

“ Bichard Goodenough, who was once under -sheriff of 
London.” 


156 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“And was also a base time-server, who did all the dirty 
work of his party. You have not yet named a man whose 
personal character carries any weight with it.” 

“ Well, sir, what do you say to Richard Rumbold ? I 
am sure that he is a man of courage and parts.” 

“ Yes — lie possesses fiery enthusiasm, tinctured by the 
discipline of a trained soldier. But he fought uuder Crom- 
well ; nav, he was one of those who guarded the scaffold 
when Charles I. was executed. He was implicated in the 
famous Rye House plot, though I do not believe he was 
aware of the intentions of the conspirators to murder the 
King and his brother. He is a violent party man, though 
I believe in the main that he is an honest one. All the 
men you have named are reduced to the condition of penni- 
less adventurers, and can afford little efficient aid to the 
enterprise the Duke contemplates.” 

“ What then do you say to McCallum More ? The Earl 
of Argyle is a refugee in Friesland, from the infamous sen- 
tence that condemned him to death because he would not 
yield his jurisdiction over the Highlands at the command 
of the Duke of York. He goes with us heart and hand, 
and he will make a descent on Scotland simultaneously with 
that made by Monmouth on England.” 

“ He would do much better to stay where he is safe from 
the sentence pronounced against him, for if he again enters 
Scotland he is lost. It is inconceivable to me that the 
Duke should listen to such evil counsellors.” 

“ For a season, after the death of his father, he seemed to 
think as you do, sir, for he withdrew himself from the coun- 
sels of his friends and retired to Brussels ; but they found 
means to reach him again, and, backed by the influence of 
Lady Wentworth, who is wild to see him King, he again 
entered into all their plans.” 

“And his wife — where is she, while he travels with this 
ambitious lady ?” 


vbrnor’s ambition. 


157 


Vernor shrugged his shoulders. 

“On her estates, I suppose, consoling herself for his de- 
sertion as well as she can. Monmouth considers Lady 
Wentworth as his lawful wife, and I confess that I do not 
blame him for refusing to give up the woman he loves 
because his hand was plighted to a baby while he was still 
too young to resist the will of his father.” 

“ I hope you do not speak thus as an excuse for acting in 
a similar manner yourself.” 

“ By no means, sir. Ethel is not the style of woman I 
particularly admire, but since I have been bought with a 
price, I must abide by the rather hard bargain I made. If 
I had retained my freedom, I flatter myself that I could now 
make a much more brilliant marriage. But necessity has 
no law, and I yielded to it in taking the incumbrance with 
the fortune. However, I shall defer claiming her as long as 
I decently can. The free and easy life I lead is too agree- 
able to be exchanged for the trammels of domestic bliss, as 
long as it can possibly be avoided.” 

The speaker yawned wearily, for already the Priory was 
a prison to him from which he longed to escape. The mo- 
notony of existence in that secluded country place was in- 
supportably tedious to him, and he found no relief from the 
ennui that oppressed him in the society of Ethel. 

She was now nearly sixteen years of age, but she was 
small and childish in appearance, and although she was 
gentle and intelligent, her manners contrasted so strikingly 
with those of the practised women of the world with whom 
Yernor had* of late years been thrown, that he could find 
little charm in them. 

During their long separation, he had rarely thought of 
her, except when the time rolled around for writing an oc- 
casional bulletin ; for after the first year of absence, his 
correspondence fell off, and Ethel noted with mortification 


158 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


and pain that his letters now scarcely alluded to the time 
when he should be entitled to claim her as his wife. 

Within the last few months retrenchments had also been 
made in the style of living at the Priory, for after the marriage 
of his son, Sir Hugh had established something like the old 
hospitality of his house, and the family mingled with their 
wealth}?’ neighbors on a footing of equality. The allowance 
of Ethel had even been reduced one-half, which wag painfully 
significant to Mrs. Methurn. She felt assured in her own 
mind that Yernor had squandered the greater part of the 
wealth he had so unscrupulously obtained, and she saw that 
he would now gladly repudiate the tie that he had so hastily 
cemented. 

Ethel felt the change in his letters very keenly for she had 
gradually wrought herself into the belief that she was very 
much attached to Yernor, but when he wrote to her that he 
was coming back to England especially to see her, she for- 
gave him for his late neglect. 

He came, and the elegant and accomplished courtier into 
which he had matured, at first dazzled and charmed her 
young imagination. For the first few days he was tender 
and kind to the little unformed creature who had few ideas 
or feelings in common with his own ; but he soon wearied 
of the part he had assumed, and his old sarcastic selfishness 
shone through the brilliant varnish of worldly tact which 
rendered him so acceptable in society. He felt that he had 
thrown himself away on a child who was incapable of ap- 
preciating him, and he permitted her to see that he thought 
so. 

This consciousness checked Ethel’s natural vivacity. She 
became timid and constrained in his presence, and in his 
heart Yernor pronounced her stupid, and unworthy of the 
position his wife must hold in the future. He bitterly re- 
gretted the sacrifice he had made, and thought all the advan- 


vernor’s ambition. 


159 


tages he had gained from it must be paid for at an exorbi- 
tant price if this fair piece of nonentity must hang forever 
as a clog upon his destiny. 

But Ethel was far from stupid. She had quick intuition, 
and singular insight into character for one so young. As a 
matter of duty she had taught herself to love the ideal Ver- 
nor, but the real one soon revolted her, and her heart recoiled 
from him more deeply with every hour they passed together. 
His hard worldliness ; his devotion to the pomps and vani- 
ties of life, found no response in her tender and true nature, 
and a chill as of death came over her as she remembered 
that her fate was indissolubly linked with his ; that for her 
there was no escape from a loveless marriage. 

She now comprehended the bitter wrong that had been 
done her, and she would gladly have surrendered all her 
fortune to be freed from the tie that bound her to Vernor. 
Her only comfort was, that he seemed to be in no hurry to 
claim her, for he had voluntarily renewed his promise to Mrs. 
Methurn to leave her protegee with her till she attained her 
eighteenth year. His life, he said, must be that of a wan- 
derer for several years to come ; he had plans to carry out 
which would not permit him to settle down as a quiet coun- 
try gentleman, and Ethel was still too much of a child to be 
removed from her protection. 

Mrs. Methurn gladly assented to this arrangement, for she 
had feared that Vernor’s object in visiting England at this 
time was to violate the pledge he had given, and remove 
her darling from her. She saw with regret that the years 
of his absence had only improved him outwardly ; his im- 
perious and hard nature remained the same, and she sadly 
felt that there could never be an}' affinity between these two 
so disastrously linked together for life. 


160 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XII. 

NEW HOPES. 

Vernor soon detected the change in Ethel’s feelings, and 
he was rather rejoiced than otherwise, for he had ambitious 
plans of his own connected with a wealthy German heiress, 
with whom he had become acquainted in his travels, and 
the encouragement which Fraulien Yon Ardenburg had 
given him induced him to believe that she would readily 
bestow herself and her fortune on himself, if he were free to 
ask them. The heiress was neither beautiful nor aristo- 
cratic, but she was brilliant, witty, and worldly wise ; such 
a wife could advance his interests, and for them Vernor 
cared more than for anything else. 

On the day before his departure from the Priory, he openly 
spoke of his wishes to Sir Hugh, in spite of the assurance 
he had lately given him that he would be true to the vows 
he had plighted to Ethel. He coolly said: 

“ I have reaped from Ethel’s fortune all the advantages it 
is likely to afford me, and I own that it will be a terrible 
sacrifice for me to fulfil the contract. Is there no loop-hole 
in the law, through which we can both escape from the 
bondage which I can see is as galling to her as to myself.” 

“And prove yourself a villain in the eyes of all men,” 
replied his father, angrity. “Are you mad, Vernor, to risk 
the loss of the Barony of Clifton, with a rent-roll larger than 
you are ever likely to gain in any other way? ” 

“ That is a most uncertain prospect, sir. The old lord 
seems inclined to live as long as Methusaleh, and his son 
» must succeed him. He may marry ; he will probably do so 
when he feels the want. of a nurse, and have heirs of his own 
to inherit the estate. That contingency is too uncertain to 


NEW HOPES. 


1GI 


have any weight with me ; nor does the first one move me. 
Few in my world will know that I have repudiated the silly 
tie I formed in my inexperienced youth ; or if they do, they 
will think that I have done right. Besides, Ethel will thank 
me for freeing her ; she can then marry my cousin, for in 
her heart she has always liked Gerald best.” 

“ How much of her fortune is left ? ” abruptly asked the 
baronet. 

“Very little I am afraid,” Vernor lightly replied. “The 
six thousand pounds in English securities were transferred 
to you, and you know best what use you have made of them. 
The remainder I have used, and nothing is now left to me 
but to raise money on the real estate in Amsterdam, for I 
am deucedly hard up for cash. If I could only get a divorce 
I could marry a million of guilders, and with them get a 
wife that will suit me far better than this baby ever can.” 

“This is even worse than I feared. You must have been 
very extravagant, Vernor, and I can see no possible chance 
to reuovate your fortune as you propose. No English jury 
would give you back your freedom under the circum- 
stances.” 

“ Then I must give up the Ardenburg, I suppose, though 
it is deucedly hard, I must say. But as to my extravagance, 
Sir Hugh, I think I have done remarkably well to make 
forty thousand pounds last so long. I have heard that my 
mother had quite as much, sir, and yet you managed to get 
rid of it all in less than four years.” 

The baronet’s purple face became almost pale, and he 
stammered : 

“ Who has told you that ? What have you learned of my 
affairs ? ” 

“Not much, sir, so do not be alarmed. I encountered 
your old friend, the Gipsy Queen, in Spain, and a heavy 
10 


162 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


sum of money bribed her to tell me a few things that you 
have concealed from me.” 

The listener fell back, half paralyzed with affright. He 
stammered : 

“ What has she revealed ? What has she dared to say of 
me?” 

“ Nothing to excite you thus, sir. She only told me what 
I vaguely knew before ; that my mother was an heiress, and 
you had spent her fortune. She said that for a few days 
the secret chamber was her prison, till you wrenched from 
her the control of her fortune, and she pined away and died 
of chagrin at the thought that her son would be impover- 
ished.” 

“ And — and what did she tell you of her death ? ” gasped 
the excited listener. 

“Was there anything to tell beyond that?” asked Ver- 
nor with shght surprise. “ On my conscience, I think it 
was enough for an English gentleman to incarcerate his wife 
for a single day in such a den as that ; and if you had not 
always been a very indulgent father to me, I do not know 
how I could forgive such violence toward my mother.” 

Sir Hugh breathed more freely ; the worst was yet un- 
known to Vernor, and after a pause to recover himself, he 
said : 

“ Let by-gones be by-gones, Vernor. The fortune is 
spent, but with the sum I received from Ethel's estate, I 
have improved this property until it is now more than doub- 
led in value. Mj r income is now nearly a thousand pounds 
a year, and from it I can afford you an allowance, which, 
with the rents in Amsterdam, should be sufficient to support 
you handsomely.” 

“You are very generous, sir; I will defer the mortgage 
yet awhile, for I do not really like to strip Ethel of the 
whole of her uncle’s fortune.” 


NEW HOPES. 


163 


“If you waste thus, Vernor, what are you to live on 
when the time to claim your bride arrives ? ” 

He yawned wearily. 

“ When that direful necessity drags me hither, I suppose 
I must vegetate here, provided my other plans should fail.” 

“ And they surely will, if they are founded on Mon- 
mouth’s success. How long is it since you saw the Gipsy? ” 
“About six months ago I last encountered her; but do 
you know, sir, that I have so often met with her and her 
son that I fancied they were dogging my steps for some 
purpose of their own. I once struck the young man, and he 
has glared on me ever since like a chained tiger.” 

“ You struck him ; and wherefore ? ” 

“ He was insolent, I thought, and I lashed him with my 
whip ; but that is long ago, and since they have done noth- 
ing in revenge as yet, I suppose my fears were groundless. 
At any rate, the liberal sum I paid his mother for the little 
information she gave me, disarmed his wrath, I presume.” 

“That is a strange presumption, when you know that he 
is of gipsy blood. Men of his race never forgive a blow, 
and you will do well to be on your guard against this man, 
for he may yet inflict a deadly injury upon you.” 

“Never fear, sir. I think he is a half-idiot, and incapa- 
ble of planning any mischief.” 

“ But his mother can plan, and he can execute. It was 
an evil chance that made him your enemy.” 

ic Oh, well, sir, I must take my chances. His thews and 
sinews are more than a match for mine, but my wit is more 
than a match for his. Since his wrath has slept so long, I 
scarcely think it will take a fatal turn in the future.” 

“ I hope not ; but you will do well to be on your guard 
against both mother and son ; and it is my especial wish 
that you tamper no more with her concerning my affairs. 
My life, you know, has not been that of a saint ; but I am 


164 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


striving now to repair the injustice I have done you as far 
as lies in my power. If I squandered your mother’s for- 
tune, the inheritance I hope to leave yon will make amends 
for it. It is my earnest wish that you shall remain true to 
your plighted faith to Ethel. She was well disposed to love 
you, and you can win her over if you choose to make the 
attempt. She will develop into a charming woman ; these 
quiet girls often become the most attractive and brilliant of 
the sex when the shyness of extreme youth is past. You 
know that I am a good judge of women, and you may trust 
to my opinion.” 

“ I can only hope that it will prove correct, sir, for there 
is great room for improvement in Ethel.” 

At that moment Ethel passed the window near which 
they were sitting, with her hat falling back, and the glow 
of health upon her cheeks. She had lately been pale and 
languid, but exercise had recalled the lovely rose hue to her 
complexion, and with more animation Yernor added: 

“ I believe you are right, Sir Hugh. There is the making 
of a tine woman in Ethel, and if she were only sure of 
becoming Lady Clifton, I should prefer her to Gertrude von 
Ardenburg, with all her guilders. I have, of late, been 
careless and unkind to her; but I do not think it will be 
best to leave a bad impression behind me. I must join her, 
and learn what has brightened her up so much.” 

He passed out, overtook Ethel upon the lawn, and found 
her reading a letter which seemed to possess a deep interest 
for her. 

“ Who is your missive from, fair lady mine ? ” he sport- 
ively asked as he approached her. 

She flushed, then grew pale, and faltered : 

“ It is of little interest to you, Yernor; my letter is from 
Gerald in reply to a question I asked him.” 

“ From my cousin ; then surely there can be nothing in 


NEW HOPES. 


165 


it which I may not see,” he said, with his imperious air. 
“If you write secrets to Gerald, I have the right to pry into 
them/’ and he held out his hand for the letter. 

Ethel still tenaciously grasped it, and, with more firmness 
than he expected, said : 

“ You are not yet my master, Yernor. My aunt always 
reads Gerald’s letters, and I have no right to show them to 
you.” 

“ Might makes right, little one, and I can take your 
letter from you if I choose ; hut I do not wish to be violent 
toward you. Show me the contents of that paper of your 
own free will, and if you do not I shall think you a most 
disobedient little wife.” 

“ Don’t call me by that name, Yernor, for I do not wish 
to maintain that relation toward you, nor do you wish me 
to hold to the vows we so wrongly made when we were too 
young to know all they involved. Since you will know, I 
will tell you that I secretly wrote to Gerald to know if Mr. 
Clyde, with whom he studies, cannot extricate us from the 
slough into which we have fallen.” 

“ Really,” replied Yernor, with an air of pique, “that 
was taking a great deal on yourself. So your distaste 
toward me is so great that you have actually written for 
advice as to the means of ridding yourself of me.” 

She looked doubtfully at him. 

“ I thought that you were even more anxious than I am 
to be freed from the bondage which can make neither of us 
happy. You have shown me plainly enough that you care 
very little for me.” 

The clearness and decision with which she answered him 
showed Yernor that he had underrated her capacity. 
Young as she was, she could both reasou and act in such a 
crisis. He abruptly asked : 

“ Does my aunt know anything of this application?” 


166 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ Oh, no — I wrote without her knowledge.” 

“ And what does Gerald say ? ” 

11 1 have not quite finished reading his letter. If you 
will allow me to do so without disturbing me, I will tell you 
the opinion of Mr. Clyde.” 

“ Read on, then ; I will not attempt to take it from you.” 

Yernor was so much taller than Ethel, and he stood so 
near her, that, without being perceived by her, he could 
overlook the page she held before her, and he had no 
scruples in thus surreptitiously possessing himself of its 
contents. As his eagle glance fell upon it, his gaze became 
rivetted to one paragraph : 

11 If Yernor also wishes to be released from his early 
vows to you, he will be called on rigidly to account for the 
fortune of which he gained possession by marrying you. 
This would be but justice to you ; but you will probably be 
in a position to act generously by him, and make him a 
present of all he has spent. Your grandfather is dead, and 
the health of the present Lord Clifton is so broken that it 
is likely that you may become the possessor of the title and 
estate before many months have elapsed.” 

Lady Clifton ! and he was about to throw this chance to 
the winds ; besides risking a charge of fraud in dissipating 
the estate of a minor. What could he have been thinking 
of to alienate Ethel so completely from himself as to goad 
her into making such an application ? 

When she again looked up at him, he was idly twitch- 
ing the grass at his feet, and with an air of unconcern he 
asked : 

“ What does he say, petite ? ” 

“ That if we both concur in the petition for a divorce, 
considering our extreme youth when we were married, it 


NEW HOPES. 167 

may be granted ; but it will be a very expensive and tedious 
proceeding.” 

“ Is that all ? ” 

“Not quite; but the remainder is only of interest to 
myself.” 

“ Then you will not permit me to read the letter ? ” 

“ I do not wish you to read it, and if you are a gentle- 
man you will not insist. Let us seek the divorce, Yernor, 
however expensive it may be; money cannqt pay for lost 
happiness.” 

“ But if my happiness is centred in you, Ethel ? I have 
had many cares pressing on my mind of late, much cause 
for deep anxiety ; and I have failed to play the part of the 
lover as your romance led you to believe I would. But you 
are very dear to me, Lady Bird, and the thought of giving 
you up fills me with pain. If the application for a divorce 
is made, it must be done without my concurrence, for I am 
not willing to release you from the vows you have plighted 
to me.” 

While he thus spoke,- Ethel became deadly pale; she had 
expected that he would eagerly grasp at a chance of release, 
and she faltered : 

“ Oh, Yernor, you do not love me — you know you do not; 
yet you will sacrifice me because you fear that a settlement 
may be required of you. Take all my fortune — use it as 
you please, but do not force me to fill the position of your 
wife.” 

“Am I, then, so hateful to you, Ethel? Your letters 
led me to believe that I held a different place in your esti- 
mation.” 

“ Yes — I tried to love you. I fancied that I had suc- 
ceeded, till you came. The illusion was kept up for a brief 
season, but you soon showed me how indifferent you are to 
me. You took pains to let me see how unlike we are in all 


168 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


things, and at all times. I have seen and felt the contempt 
you showed for the country-bred girl who knows none of 
the arts of the fine ladies with whom you have of late years 
associated.” 

Yernor listened with surprise to this expos4 of his real 
feelings, made by a child he had considered too obtuse to 
understand him. He took her cold hand in his own, and 
earnestly said : 

“We have mutually misunderstood each other, Ethel. I 
thought you inferior to what your childhood promised, and at 
first I was disappointed. But you have won upon me daily; 
much that 1 have done was only to try you. but you have 
passed through the ordeal like an angel, and I estimate you 
more highly than ever. If my life is ever to become noble 
and true, it must be through your influence. Do not give 
me up yet; wait till the stipulated time has expired before 
I can claim you as my own, and then , if you still wish it, I 
will aid you in seeking a divorce.” 

She sighed heavily, and with effort prevented the gather- 
ing tears from falling. 

“I have no other resource, Yernor ; I cannot compel you 
to any course of action, and I must submit to your decision, 
however reluctantly I may do so.” 

“ That is right ; and Ethel, dear Ethel, try to love me a 
little. I will endeavor to render myself worthy of you. I 
hope to win a station which you will adorn, for I have plans 
and prospects which promise much in their fulfillment. Let 
us resume our old feelings toward each other, and I promise 
to try to make you happ}\” 

His expressive eyes were bent full upon her; his hand- 
some face wore its most winning expression, and Ethel suf- 
fered him to retain the hand he still held, as she faintly said: 

“ It is my duty to do as you wish. I will make the effort, 
but if I fail, you will voluntarily release me ? ” 


NEW HOPES. 


169 


(i I will — I swear it ; but you must be faithful in your 
endeavors to walk in the path of duty. You must not per- 
mit your old fondness for Gerald to come between you and 
myself.” 

She blushed vividly, and hastily replied : 

“ Gerald is my brother ; we have rarely met since my child- 
hood, and I have no reason to believe that he thinks of me 
except as the adopted daughter of his mother.” 

“ So much the better, for if I were compelled to give you 
up, I would never permit him to be my rival.” 

She said nothing in reply, and they walked on in silence 
to^vard the house. 

Yernor deferred his departure several days, during which 
be used every art to recover his lost ground with Ethel. Mrs, 
Methurn marvelled at this sudden devotion, but on the day 
of his departure she was partially enlightened. The formal 
announcement of Lord Clifton’s death was forwarded to Sir 
Hugh by his lawyers, with the intimation that the annuity 
Ethel had hitherto received was secured to her for life ; in a 
postscript was added : 

“ The new Baron is in very feeble health, and your ward 
will probably succeed to the estate of her grandfather before 
the year is out.” 

Mrs. Methurn felt assured that by some means Yernor 
had obtained this information, and she sighed as she thought 
that Fate itself was against her protegee. Like fairy gifts 
which suddenly turn to ashes in the grasp of the recipient, 
the probable accession of fortune that awaited Ethel only 
promised to render her life a desolation by tightening the 
hold of an avaricious and unprincipled man upon her des- 
tiny. 


170 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE INVASION. 

The seaport of Lyme lies on a wild, rooty coast, beaten 
by a stormy sea. It is a picturesque place, rising abruptly 
from the sea into a series of narrow alleys, on the sides of 
which the houses are perched. 

At the time of which we write, the place was chiefly 
remarkable for an extensive pier, built in the days of the 
Plantagenets, which enclosed the only haven in an extent of 
many miles in which mariners could find shelter from the 
storms of the English channel. 

On a bright morning in June, 1686, the inhabitants of 
this lonely place were surprised by the appearance of three 
ships of foreign build, on which no colors were displayed to 
show their nationality. Groups collected on the cliffs to watch 
the boats that went out with the officers of the customs, and 
their uneasiness and perplexity were increased when they 
did not return. 

At length seven boats, heavily loaded with armed men, 
put out from the largest of the ships, and rowed toward the 
landing. In the foremost was a group of gentlemen, among 
whom was one conspicuous for the beauty of his person and 
the grace of his bearing. He wore upon his breast the blue 
ribbon of St. George, which proclaimed his high rank, and 
the stern men that surrounded him evidently looked to him 
as their chief. 

As the boat touched the pier, he arose, and stepping upon 
the shore, kneeled down, and reverently returned thanks to 
Heaven for having preserved the friends of liberty from 
the dangers of the deep. He then implored the divine bless- 


THE INVASION. 171 

ing upon the effort he was about to make to restore freedom 
to his oppressed countrymen. 

Then rising, he drew his sword, and led his followers over 
the cliffs into the town. A man among the crowd recog- 
nized him as the beloved Duke, and the cry of, “ A Mon- 
mouth ! a Monmouth ! hurra for King Monmouth ! ” ran 
from mouth to mouth, and the wild enthusiasm of the popu- 
lace was manifested in every possible manner. They 
gathered around the chieftain with cries and tears of joy, 
and shouts of “ Long live King Monmouth ! ” were heard 
on every side. 

Monmouth accepted these demonstrations with delight. 
Impulsive and enthusiastic in character, he regarded this 
reception as a prelude to the triumphs that awaited him 
in his progress to the throne. Deceived by his emissaries, 
he believed he had only to raise his standard, and all classes 
would rush to sustain his pretensions to the crown of his 
father. 

He spoke to the gentleman who walked nearest to him — 
an aristocratic looking man of middle age : 

“ See, my lord, how much my good lieges love me. With 
such a hold on the hearts of the people, why shall I fear for 
my success ? ” 

Lord Grey bowed, and blandly replied : 

“ This reception but fulfils the guarantees already given to 
your highness. Let us act with decision, and the throne of 
your ancestors will be yours.” 

“ Yes — action — action is our only salvation now. I mean 
to strike a blow which shall be felt at Whitehall, and cause 
my uncle to feel that he has no place in the affections of 
the people he has so misgoverned.” 

Lord Grey bowed, and the party, which consisted of 
eighty men, thoroughly armed and equipped, passed on to 
the market-place of the town, and the ensign of the invaders 


172 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


— a blue flag — was raised above ifc. Military stores were 
deposited in the town hall, and a repulsive looking man 
stood up before the people to read a declaration setting forth 
the object of the expedition. 

He made many charges against the government, which 
were founded on justice, but these were mingled with 
personal accusations against James II., of such a nature as 
could never be forgiven by that monarch. He was accused 
of poisoning the late king ; of causing the great fire which 
had desolated London a few years before, and many other 
crimes of the darkest dye. 

The listeners were not in a mood to criticise, for they 
hated the tyrannical ruler, and had been so ground down 
bj f the oppressions of the dominant faction, that they were 
read}' to throw themselves into any cause that promised a 
redress of their grievances. The dissenters had been relent- 
lessly persecuted, and a deep and bitter hatred toward the 
reigning sovereign was widely spread among them. They 
eagerly hailed the advent of Monmouth, and pressed on him 
offers of service. The old Roundhead spirit still existed in 
the West of England among the yeoman, the traders, the 
artizans and peasantry, although the gentry were mostly 
attached to the court. But the invaders had sanguine 
hopes that they, too, would flock to their standard when 
they saw how unanimous the people were in sustaining the 
cause of Monmouth. 

The masses remembered the brilliant progress he had 
made among them a few years before ; they had then been 
induced to believe that the Duke was the legitimate heir to 
the crown, and they clung to this delusion, asserting that a 
vile conspiracy had deprived their idol of his own. 

To the masses, Monmouth was the good Duke, the Prot- 
estant heir to the throne, and his landing at Lym6 was no 
sooner known than crowds flocked to his standard. In 


THE INVASION. 


173 


twenty-four hours he was at the head of fifteen hundred 
men, and a band of horsemen, headed bv Dare, one of his 
most enthusiastic adherents, arrived from Taunton. 

Vernor Methurn, as private secretary to Monmouth, 
accompanied him, and to him Dare brought a few lines from 
Sir Hugh, entreating him to resign his post, and take 
refuge at the Priory, while it was yet time to save himself 
from the consequences of this outbreak. 

To this letter Vernor, after the lapse of a few days, 
returned the following reply : 

“Dear Father: — I am half inclined to follow your 
advice, for we have already so many dissensions among our- 
selves that I cannot see that the enterprise of Monmouth is 
to end in anything but ruin to us all. In place of concerted 
action, our chiefs are quarreling among themselves, and 
Dare, who bore me your letter, has been shot by Fletcher 
in an absurd quarrel about a cavalry horse. He then fled 
to one of the ships to avoid the vengeance of Dare’s men, 
and thus we have lost one of our best leaders. 

“ Yesterday, Grey marched with five hundred men to 
attack Bridport, and at first our troops were victorious; hut 
they were finally driven back, and Grey ingloriously fled to 
Lyme. Yet in spite of these disasters, recruits are coming 
in by hundreds, and if Monmouth is only as popular 
throughout England as he is hereabouts, there will be no 
such thing as resisting the legions that will crowd to his 
standard. 

“ The Mayor of Lyme, who is a strong Tory, fled and 
gave the alarm to Lord Albemarle, and information has 
come in that he is at the head of four thousand troops, and 
on the march to give us battle. I am only the Duke’s 
secretary, and I do not think it advisable to expose my 
person to any unnecessary danger. We are now at Axmin- 


174 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


ster, and if a reverse overtakes us here I shall take your 
advice. In the meantime, I will send you information of 
our movements whenever opportunity offers. 

“ We shall probably be in your vicinity before many days, 
as we contemplate marching on Taunton, if Albemarle does 
not crush us out at once. Y. M.” 

The next missive ran thus : 

“ Albemarle was frightened at the display of our four 
field pieces and ignominiously retired before us. Mon- 
mouth thinks it advisable that his recruits shall be better 
drilled before going into action. We are now on our way 
to Taunton, which we are assured is enthusiastic in the 
Duke’s cause. 

“ Since Albemarle showed the white feather we are san- 
guine of success, and on our arrival in Taunton, I beg that 
you will not fail to come hither and bring Ethel with you. 
It is my wish to present her to the Duke, who manifests a 
warm interest in my fortunes. Tell her it is my will that 
she shall come, and it is her duty to obey me. Y. M.” 

The Priory was only six nfiles from Taunton, and Sir 
Hugh was aware of the ferment going on there. He visited 
the place himself, and was greeted everywhere with cries of 
a a Monmouth, a Monmouth! down with the despot.” 

The enthusiasm of the people communicated itself to him 
in some degree, and in spite of his former misgivings, he 
began to cherish the hope that the rebellion would be suc- 
cessful. He returned home, and bade Ethel get ready to 
take part in the ovation with which the townspeople were 
preparing to welcome Monmouth. 

For several years past, Ethel had twice a week visited 
Taunton for the purpose of taking music lessons in the 


THE INVASION. 


175 


female school established there, and the principal wished 
her to take a prominent part in the festival. All the pupils 
of Mrs. Malton were to walk in the procession, and strew 
flowers before the hero of the hour ; the two eldest among 
them were to present him with a Bible and a flag. 

Six years before, when Monmouth passed as a bright 
meteor through the country, Ethel had seen him, and the 
impression made by his beauty and the splendor of his 
appearance had never faded from her mind. In her young 
heart was cherished a romantic feeling of devotion to 
the cause of the young Duke, for she thought if justice 
was done, Monmouth would inherit the throne of his father. 

Vernor could not have issued a command that she would 
more readily have obeyed, and in great elation she com- 
menced her preparations for the part she was to play on the 
occasion. 

In vain Mrs. Methurn remonstrated, and pointed out to 
Sir Hugh the possible danger that might ensue to all 
concerned in the rebellion. He seemed to have forgotten 
his own warnings to Vernor, and to have become as reck- 
less of consequences as the youngest and most hot-headed 
of men. 

He laughed at her fears, and said : 

“ I once thought as you do; but I am wiser now. Mon- 
mouth will be king, and those who welcome him with 
enthusiasm now, will be remembered and distinguished 
when he wields the power of the crown. The whole west 
is in a tumult of rejoicing at his advent, and I now think 
the flame will spread from county to county till the entire 
kingdom is in a blaze.” 

“ That may be true of this section, Sir Hugh ; yet I 
think it possible he may fail, and with such a chance, you 
should not expose yourself, nor this helpless child, to the 
vengeance of a government which has already shown itself 
relentless in more than one case.” 


176 


THE GIPSY'S WARNING. 


“I repeat, that in my opinion there is no risk in showing 
our real feelings ; and it would be a paltry government that 
would strike at a fledgling like Ethel. I promised that she 
shall present the Bible to the } r oung chieftain, and I shall 
not fail to keep my pledge.” 

Finding Sir Hugh immovable, Mrs. Methurn would have 
persuaded Ethel to feign sickness to escape the danger she 
foresaw ; but to her surprise, she was as eager to take a 
part in the ceremony as Sir Hugh could have desired. She 
said : 

“ Oh, Aunty, I would not be ill for the world. I remem- 
ber that gracious and elegant man when he came among us 
long ago. I was but a child then, but I have always 
thought it a shame that he did not succeed King Charles. 
He is his son, and if his mother was a woman of low 
degree, the Stuart thought it right to make her his wife. 
I believe in the validity of the marriage, and I recoguize 
the handsome Duke as my lawful sovereign.” 

“ But if his attempt to win the crown should fail, Ethel, 
your appearance in the procession of which you wish to 
form a part, might cost you dear.” 

“ Then I will abide the consequences,” replied the young 
girl, w r ith a bright smile. “Such a poor little thing as I 
am would not be worth punishing; and there is nothing 
wrong in presenting a Bible to any one, I am sure.” 

“In itself perhaps there is not, but y< a will be made 
painfully conspicuous, and I tremble for what may follow, 
for I have a presentiment that evil will come to us from all 
this turmoil.” 

Ethel threw her arms around her neck and playfully 
said : 

“ Put aside your fears, dear aunty, and enjoy the unusual 
spectacle as much as I shall. It will be a charming diver- 
sion to the monotony of our existence, and I own that I 


THE INVASION. 


177 


enjoy the thought of taking part in the honors offered to 
my hero. You will come with me to witness the pageant, 
I hope .’ 7 

“ Since you will go, of course I cannot permit you to go 
alone. I am afraid that Gerald’s legal skill will be called 
on to defend both you and Yernorfrom the consequences of 
these lawless proceedings.” 

Ethel laughed blithely. 

“ Then Gerald’s ability shall save us, and he shall win 
his first laurels in the cause of his nearest friends. But 
why should you doubt, aunty? even Sir Hugh, since his 
visit to Taunton, seems to think the cause of Monmouth 
secure. The overwhelming enthusiasm he there witnessed 
has overcome his scruples.” 

u My dear, a tumultuous and enthusiastic outburst is 
rarely a successful one. As long as fortune smiles on Mon- 
mouth his adherents will cling to him ; but if a single 
reverse falls on him his cause is ruined, and, if taken, he 
will lose his head.” 

Ethel looked aghast. 

“ Surely the King would never put his own nephew to 
death ! that would be a worse crime than Elizabeth perpe- 
trated when she took the life of Mary Queen of Scots.” 

“He both could and would. The man who commissions 
such a wretch as Jeffrey to slay his subjects judicially, is 
not likely to show mercy to him who has placed his life and 
crown in jeopardy. This very Jeffrey will probably be sent 
hither to sit in judgment upon the poor wretches who are 
deluding themselves with the hope of a change of rulers.” 

Ethel became slightly pale, but she presently said : 

“The cruelties to which you refer have armed the people 
against the King, and now they have a chance to make 
their power felt, they will never give up till they have con- 
quered. I believe that God will aid the just cause, and I 
11 


1T8 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


will offer His holy precepts to the good Duke as the guide 
of his actions.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

I 

monmouth’s reception at taunton. 

Finding her efforts useless, Mrs. Methurn prepared to 
accompany Ethel to Taunton on the appointed morning, 
and thither the party went in such state as Sir Hugh’s 
improved finances could afford. The pony phaeton was 
escorted by the baronet mounted on a magnificent horse, 
followed by two serving men in livery. 

They passed through a country rich in orchards and 
green pastures, among which were scattered manor houses, 
cottages, and village spires. The people of Taunton 
boasted that they lived in a land flowing with milk and 
honey ; and with truth, for the town was situated in one of 
the most fertile of English valleys. 

The citizens of the place had long leaned to the Presby- 
terian divinity, and Whig politics; and in the great civil 
war, Taunton had steadily adhered to the Parliament. 
The town had been twice besieged, and was defended with 
heroic perseverance. The spirit of the people was still 
unbroken, and at Whitehall their stubborn adherence to the 
Puritan cause had excited such fierce resentment that, by a 
royal decree, the walls of the town were razed to the ground 
and the moat filled up. 

Nevertheless, the descendants of those who forty years 
before had fought upon the ramparts of Taunton were now 
preparing to throw their lives and fortunes in the scale of 
the Protestant pretender to the throne. 


MONMOUTH AT TAUNTON. 179 

As the party from the Priory drew near the town they 
overtook groups of peeple decorated with the badge of 
Monmouth — a green bough stuck in the hat, or worn upon 
the breast. All seemed to be in a state of joyful excitement, 
and cries of “ Long live King Monmouth ! v were heard in 
every direction, for by that title they distinguished him 
from his uncle, as his name was also James. 

On entering the streets, every door and window was 
wreathed with garlands, and the wives and daughters of the 
best families of the town appeared at them wearing the 
colors of the insurgents. Bands of music filled the air 
with exulting strains, and every face wore an expression of 
joyful expectation. 

Sir Hugh led the way to the town hall, where the pupils 
of Mrs. Malton’s school were already gathered to form a pro- 
cession to welcome the Duke. The girls were all young, 
the most of them under fourteen years of age, and, as the 
eldest and fairest of her pupils, Mrs. Malton wished Ethel 
to present the Bible which lay conspicuous upon the table 
around which the youthful group had gathered. 

The Bible was one of great price ; its leaves were 
enriched with exquisite illuminations, and its purple velvet 
cover glittered with costly jewels. A flag, gorgeously 
embroidered with emblems of royal dignity, was to be pre- 
sented by Alice Digby, the chosen friend of Ethel, and the 
only daughter of a gentleman of ancient family, who 
resided in the outskirts of the town. 

The girls were dressed alike in white robes, with blue 
tunics gathered back at the sides, and festooned with bou- 
quets of flowers, as we now see them in the figures of 
shepherdesses in old paintings, or in china ornaments. 
They were too young to have their hair frizzed in the 
fashion of the day, so it was permitted to float in natural 
curls around their fair, rosy faces, and a more attractive 


<«* 


180 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


picture of youth and innocence it would have been difficult 
to find. 

In the excitement of the hour, Ethel’s character seemed 
to have undergone a complete revolution. In her enthusi- 
asm she forgot her timidity, for she thought only of the 
great results she believed would flow from the events that 
were transpiring, and in her ardent desire to do honor to 
the hero of her imagination she forgot how conspicuous a 
part she had undertaken to perform in the pageant. 

Underlying all the natural reticence of her character, 
was a power of self-control few would have expected to find 
in a fair and fragile girl of sixteen. Excitement gave her 
a most brilliant color, and the pale little girl was on that 
day almost radiantly beautiful. 

A courier dashed up in hot haste to say that the Duke 
with his body guard was approaching. The trained bands 
marched out to meet and escort him into the town, and the 
bevy of young girls were arranged in procession, headed by 
the pages,- one bearing the flag, the other the Bible on a 
cushion of purple velvet, embroidered with pearls. 

Each one of the children carried a basket of flowers to be 
strewed in the pathway of the idol of the hour, and as 
the cavalcade appeared headed by the graceful and elegant 
Duke, at a signal the bands of music were silenced, and Ethel, 
blushing like a rose, but calm and self-possessed, stepped for- 
ward, took the Holy Book in her hands, and in a clear, 
distinct voice, said : 

“ To the saviour of our native land from the darkness of 
persecution, I offer the precepts laid down by the great Law- 
giver as the rule of life. May they sink deep in your heart, 
ruler of our country’s destiny, and enable you to combine 
the wisdom of Solomon with the mild teachings of the Prince 
of Peace.” 

With that winning courtesy which pre-eminently distin- 


MONMOUTH AT TAUNTON. 


181 


guished him, Monmouth alighted from his horse, and lifting 
the fair hand to his lips, after having received from it the 
elegant offering, he replied: 

“Fair lady, I pledge my honor and knighthood to the 
fulfillment of my duty to my land, and people. With God’s 
blessing 1 hope to win and w r ear my father’s crown, and the 
blessing of good government shall be known to all. This 
Holy Book shall teach me such lessons of wisdom as shall 
lead me in the right path.” 

Shouts and vivas rent the air, and when they subsided, 
Alice Digby stepped forward, holding the flag. She ad- 
dressed him, as if already king, in a clear, vibrant voice that 
penetrated the crowd with its silvery ring. 

“Sire, we present to you the insignia of 3 r our royal rank, 
emblazoned on the field of blue, which is clear and spotless 
as the azure vault of Heaven. Ma} r good fortune perch 
upon its folds, and never may it be lowered before the foes 
of true religion and national freedom.” 

Monmouth received it with a flush of pride, and he waved 
it above his head as he said : 

“ Spotless will I maintain it as the honor of a true knight ; 
and when I am installed in the palace of ray ancestors, it 
shall have a conspicuous place among the banners that adorn 
its walls.” 

The bands struck up their most exhilarating strains, 
flowers were showered over the uncovered head of Mon- 
mouth, who, bowing and smiling with graceful urbanity, 
won new suffrages from all hearts. 

Thus he was conducted to the town hall, where a magnfi- 
cent banquet was prepared for him and his immediate fol- 
lowers. Tables for his soldiers were laid in the open air, 
and as Mrs. Methuru and Ethel drov« to Mr. Dighv’s, 
where they were to dine, the enthusiasm of the multitude 
was even greater than at the commencement of the day. 


182 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING* 


Vernor was in the suite of Monmouth, and he saw with 
delight the graceful manner with which Ethel acquitted 
herself of the task she had undertaken. As soon as he 
could leave the banquet hall, he hurried to the house of Mr. 
Digby to greet his aunt and herself. He was radiant with 
joy and triumph, and said to the girls : 

“ Young ladies, you have immortalized yourselves to-day. 
History will record the graceful manner with which you dis- 
charged the duties delegated to you. Ethel, darling, you 
were charming, and the Duke congratulated me on claiming 
such a gem as my own.” 

Ethel blushed at this praise, and then became pale, for 
the sight of Vernor had renewed the old conflict of feeling, 
and she felt that a deep and growing distaste to the idea of 
fulfilling her vows to him was becoming the dominant feel- 
ing of her heart. She faltered a few words in reply, but he 
scarcely heeded them and went on. 

“ The Duke has expressed a wish to have the two beauties 
who gave him so agreeable a welcome, presented to him. 
He is at the house of the Mayor, holding a levee, and I 
came hither to escort you and Alice Digby to his presence. 
A carriage is at the door, and you had better come before 
the crowd becomes too dense.” 

In a flutter of delight at this distinction, the girls were 
soon ready to accompany him ; and Mrs. Methurn, at their 
earnest solicitation, agreed to accompany them, though she 
did it with many misgivings as to what might ensue from 
the incidents of this day. 

The enthusisam of the crowds seemed to increase with 
every hour, and such was the profusion of green branches that 
the town looked as if Burnham wood had come again as in 
the days of Macbeth. With some difficulty the carriage 
was driven to the Mayor’s house, and our party alighted at 
the door, which was ornamented with garlands woven in the 


MONMOUTH AT TAUNTON. 


183 


form of a royal crown, beneath which appeared the name of 
Monmouth in illuminated letters, with a few lines of poetry 
describing him as the only hope of free born Englishmen. 

Officers, and guards in gay uniform, thronged upon the 
steps, and elegantly dressed women were passing beneath 
the portal in a continuous stream to offer their homage to 
him thej r believed to be on the eve of becoming their king. 

Sir Hugh was on the lookout for their arrival, and he 
offered his arm to Mrs. Methurn, while the elated Yernor 
moved forward with the two young ladies under his escort. 
After some delay they succeeded in reaching the reception 
room, which was also decorated with garlands of natural 
flowers, fit emblems of the evanescent triumph of him in 
whose honor they had been woven together. 

Monmouth, surrounded by his staff, stood at the upper end 
of the large apartment, and as he caught sight of Yernor, he 
said : 

“ Open the way, gentlemen, for the approach of the fair 
ladies who first welcomed me to this loyal town.” 

Every eye was turned on the approaching group, and the 
Duke, stepping forward, received them with that cordial 
grace which rendered him irresistible to those he wished to 
please. He drew from his hand a ring containing a single 
large brilliant, surrounded by a circle of sapphires. This he 
placed on Ethel’s finger, as he said : 

“ These stones are emblematic, fair lady. You are in the 
April of life ; the diamond represents innocence, and there- 
fore a fitting offering to youth and beauty. When I am 
master of my own, show me this ring, and ask such favor as 
you may desire ; I pledge my royal word that it shall be 
granted.” 

She uttered a few fitting words in reply, wffiich to her own 
surprise seemed to spring to her lips on the impulse of the 
moment. Monmouth then turned to Alice Digby, and pre- 
senting a second ring set with emeralds, said : 


184 


THE GIFSY’S WARNING. 


“ In the May morning of existence, these stones denote 
happiness which I trust will be yours. If, in the future, I 
can aid you in any way, command me, lady ; and feel 
assured that the banner j'ou this day presented to me shall 
be borne from victory to victory, till it floats in peace over 
the halls of my ancestors.” 

Alice seemed carried away by the enthusiasm of the 
moment, and she replied in her peculiar, ringing tones: 

“ Sire, the prayers and blessings of a great nation are with 
you. The royal blood that animates your heart will teach 
you to fulfil the duties of a great king, and all present will 
join with me in crying long live King James III.” 

The cry was taken up and echoed through the hall, whence 
it penetrated to the antechamber and descended to the 
streets, and the whole town seemed in a tumult of applause. 

Ethel whispered to Vernor : 

“ Get me out of this crowd or I shall faint.” 

He looked at her and saw that she was very pale. Al- 
though vexed that she should become ill at so inopportune a 
moment, he succeeded after some effort in extricating them 
from the increasing crowd, and they gained the privacy of a 
smaller room opening from the hall of audience. In this 
they were joined by Sir Hugh and Mrs. Methurn : they had 
been presented to the Duke, and, after uttering a few grace- 
ful sentences to the lady, he said in a low voice to the baro- 
net : 

“ The betrothed of your son is indeed a lovely young crea- 
ture ; when she becomes Viscountess Clifton I will see to the 
revival of an Earl’s title in her family, which will be a fit- 
ting reward for the services of my friend Methurn.” 

Sir Hugh was greatly elated, and to Ethel’s surprise 
addressed her as my lady countess. Vernor was angry with 
her, and he said in an irritated tone r 

“ She will never be fit to wear the ermine, till she learns 


MONMOUTH AT TAUNTON. 185 

how to control herself. It was most absurd to grow ill in 
the midst of such a triumph. What on earth ailed you, 
Ethel?” 

I am afraid you will think me ver}” foolish, but as the 
Duke referred to the signification of gems, I suddenly 
remembered that the sapphire is the emblem of repentance, 
and a voice seemed to ring in my ears, * You shall dearly 
repent this hour. , I know it was fantasy, but I could almost 
have believed that the words were really uttered near me, so 
distinctly did I hear them.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” replied Vernor, looking more annoyed than 
before. “ Why should you become the prophet of evil to 
my friend and patron? ” 

lt Sorry indeed should I be to prove such, dear Vernor. 
I have only told you the truth, and I regret that you should 
be angry with me for speaking it.” 

“ Oh, I am not angry; I am only annoyed that you should 
have such absurd fancies, and suffer them to influence } r ou at 
such a moment. Come — let us go down; I will put } r ou in 
the carriage, and leave my father to escort you back, for I 
must return to the Duke.” 

“ And we shall see you no more, till — till ” 

She paused and shuddered. Vernor completed her unfin- 
ished sentence : 

“Not till King James III. reigns in Whitehall. Then I 
will come to you in triumph.” 

“But there will be fighting; you may be killed.” 

“ I shall know how to take care of myself,” he coolly 
replied ; and with little show of emotion, he bade them adieu 
at the carriage door, assuring his father that in a few weeks 
the struggle would be over, and the triumph of Monmouth 
complete. 

After setting Alice Digb}' down at her father’s door, the 
party drove back to the Priory, greeted on every side by 
cries of “Long live King Monmouth ! ” 


186 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTEK XV. 

THE FUGITIVE. 

Weeks of apprehension and anxiety passed over the 
family at the Priory — every day brought rumors, which 
made them heart-sick for the future. That brilliant ovation 
at Taunton was the last sparkle on the bitter cup the hap- 
less Monmouth was to drink to the dregs. The forces of 
the king encountered his undisciplined troops at Sedgemoor, 
and completely routed them. He fled from the battle field, 
and Sir Hugh learned that his son bore him company — 
beyond that he could gain no information, and the family 
waited and watched for Vernor’s appearance with weary 
and wretched hearts. 

The work of vengeance had commenced with relentless 
severity, and Sir Hugh was in daily expectation of a visit 
from the rude soldiery who were permitted to be guilty of 
any degree of atrocity toward those who had been impli- 
cated in the rebellion. 

Thus far he had been unmolested, and he began to cherish 
the hope that for Vernor’s share in the outbreak his family 
would not be held responsible. 

It was late in the evening, and the family had retired to 
their own apartments, when a worn and wasted figure ap- 
proached the house in a stealthy manner, as if fearing pur- 
suit. He reconnoitered the gloomy looking pile before he 
ventured to approach Sir Hugh’s room. The window was 
partly open, and he glanced through the dimly-lighted room 
to ascertain if its occupant was alone. 

The old man sat beside a table oil which rested a bottle 
and glass, and the lip of the wanderer curled scornfully as 
he saw the source to which Sir Hugh had applied for conso- 
lation. 


THE FUGITIVE. 


187 


With a single bound lie sprang into the apartment, and 
the baronet arose in alarm, and attempted to reach the bell 
cord, for he did not recognize in that ghastly, dirty fugitive, 
his handsome son. 

Vernor sprang forward and seized his hand, as he 
exclaimed : 

“ Would you destroy me, sir? After toils and hardships 
that would have killed most men, I have gained this haven 
of safety ; but if the servants know I am here, I am lost.” 

With a faint cry the old man sank back upon his seat, too 
much unnerved to reply for several moments. Vernor 
seized the bottle, placed it to his lips, and swallowed a long 
draught ; then replacing it, he said : 

“ I am famishing. I have had nothing to eat for three 
days but raw vegetables that I gathered from the fields. 
Have food placed before me without delay. Ethel can wait 
on me, and no one but she and my aunt need know that I 
am here.” 

Sir Hugh feebly arose, for the events of the last few 
weeks had shaken him severely, and the potations he had 
imbibed did not tend to strengthen either mind or body. 

Crying out, “ Oh, my boy, my boy ! did I ever think you 
would come to such a pass as this ! ” he went toward the 
door, and Vernor again applied to the bottle for consolation. 

The old man knocked at the door of Ethel’s chamber, and 
when she unclosed it she was struck with fear and astonish- 
ment at the apparition of Sir Hugh looking as pale as a 
wraith, with tears streaming over his furrowed face. 

“ What is it, dear sir? For Heaven’s sake, tell me if you 
have heard evil tidings of Vernor? ” 

“He is here — he is in my room, starving, wretched — 
hunted! Oh, my God! Ethel, what is to become of us 
all?” 

“Here!” was the response, in an accent of joy. “Then 


188 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


he is safe ; for we can hide him in the old house where no 
one will be able to find him. Let me speak to aunty, and 
we will soon supply him with food.” 

“ Yes,” he replied, in a dull tone — “tell Agnes, and lose 
no time in bringing the poor fellow something to eat. But 
be careful, Ethel ; the servants must suspect nothing. If 
they are questioned they might betray him.” 

“ I understand, sir. These are dreadful times, and we 
cannot be too cautious. I will speak to aunty, and in a few 
moments we will join you.” 

Sir Hugh returned to his son, and the young girl flitted 
into Mrs. Meth urn’s apartment with the welcome news that 
the fugitive had at last gained the shelter of his paternal 
roof. She heard it with gratitude, and in a few moments 
the two entered the baronet’s room, bearing cold meat, bread 
and wine. 

Vernor scarcely paused to greet them ; he fell upon the 
food with the appetite of a famished tiger, tore it with his 
fingers, and drank from the bottle almost without noticing 
those who were weeping and lamenting over his deplorable 
condition. 

At length his hunger was satisfied, and after washing his 
hands and face in the water which Ethel offered him, he 
said, with a ghastly attempt to smile : 

“You see, Ethel, to what I have come by following my 
own headstrong will. I devoted my life to a mad enter- 
prise, and now, unless I can escape the bloodhounds that 
are on my track, I shall lose it by the hangman’s rope.” 

Ethel uttered a cry, and he bitterly went on : 

“Aye — that fate is thought good enough even for gentle- 
men who have risen against the rule of James Stuart. 
Feversham’s dragoons have already strung up hundreds of 
men, and I escaped them almost by a miracle.” 

“ Sit down and tell us all your adventures,” said Mrs. 


THE FUGITIVE. 


189 


Methurn, for Vernor, forgetful of his fatigue, was pacing 
the floor like a hunted wild beast. “We have been so 
wretched about you, that now we have you with us we can 
almost feel that the worst is past.” 

“ Then you know little of the implacable man that rules 
this land, Aunt Agnes,” he bitterly replied. “ Danger 
overhangs us all; the royal troops are overrunning the 
whole country, and it is a wonder to me that they have not 
yet visited the Priory. They are probably giving me time 
to take refuge here before they come to trap me like a rat 
in a hole. But I will baffle them yet. I have a hiding- 
place they will never find ; and now I am here, 1 feel quite 
safe.” 

“And the Duke?” asked Ethel, tremulously. “What 
of him ? I trust he has escaped.” 

An expression of deep gloom overspread Vernor’ s face. 

“He is taken. A reward of five thousand pounds was 
set upon his head ; this stimulated the wretched knaves of 
his uncle to such activity that he was cut off, surrounded 
and made a prisoner. By this time he is in Loudon. I fled 
from the field of Sedgemoor with him, accompanied by 
Grey and several others. We all urged Monmouth to take 
refuge in Wales, as he could have concealed himself in its 
mountain-fastnesses long before his defeat was known. 
From there he could easily have made his way to the sea- 
coast, but he was infatuated with the idea that in Hamp- 
shire he could lurk in the cabins of the deer-stealers, 
sheltered by the New Forest, till he could find means to 
escape to the Continent. 

“ When we reached Cranbourne Chase, our horses gave 
out, so we turned them loose, and concealed the bridles and 
saddles. We disguised ourselves as countrymen, and went 
on foot toward the New Forest. We passed the night in 
the open air, and during its long hours our pursuers were 


190 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


setting their toils. Lumley sent out scouts in every direc- 
tion, and Portman encircled our place of refuge by sentinels 
so placed that there seemed to be no possibility of escape. 

“ The next morning Grey was taken while attempting to 
reconnoitre. The rest of us found refuge in a large field 
intersected by hedges, and covered with rye and pease ; and 
it was lucky for us that the latter grew there, for without 
them we should have perished of hunger. After Grej' was 
captured, the search fbr Monmouth became more animated, 
for the soldiers were certain that he could not be far off. 

“ Every time we ventured to look through the hedge, we 
found a sentinel on the alert, and at last the poor Duke gave 
up all hope of escape. His courage seemed to fail him, and 
he wept like a child. In fact, we were all completely done 
out with fatigue and privation. 

“ I saw that all hope for Monmouth was over, and 
I naturally thought of saving myself. After he was 
secured I knew that the search would be related, and I 
might have a chance to escape the toils that had mainly 
spread for him. There was a ditch at the back of one of 
the fields, overgrown with ferns and brambles ; into this I 
crept, and watched and waited for the result. 

“ It was not long in coming. I had fallen into a light 
slumber, from sheer weariness, when I was aroused by a 
shout. I peeped out from my shelter, and saw a party of 
men carrying off poor Monmouth as a prisoner. He looked 
so wretched and downcast that I pitied him with all my 
heart, but it would have been my own destruction to join 
him then, though I was half tempted to do so ; misery had 
made me reckless, and I cared very little what happened to 
me. The soldiers had secured the prize they sought, and 
my refuge was left unsearched. 

“ After a few hours, I found means to escape to a wood- 
cutter’s hut, where I remained till the troops were with- 


191 


✓ 


THE FUGITIVE. 

drawn. I then started for this place. I have skulked in 
by-places ; concealed myself from every approaching trav- 
eller, and have lived — God knows how ! for I dared not 
enter any house to ask for food, lest the people should arrest 
me as a suspicious character. That is all I have to tell. I 
am here at last, and I think I can secure myself from dis- 
covery, if food can be furnished me without exciting suspi- 
cion among the servants.” 

Ethel was weeping violently, and Vernor turned to her 
with an expression of surprise. 

“ Ha ! little one — since I am safe and sound I do not 
know what cause for tears you can have just at this 
moment.” 

“ Oh ! Vernor, how can you say so, when that noble 
cavalier is a prisoner in the power of his greatest enemy. 
How could you desert him and care for your own safety in 
his hour of direst need ? ” 

A dark frown gathered on his brow, and he harshly said : 

" Don’t be a fool, Ethel. I could have done the Duke no 
good by remaining with him. I feel much flattered that 
you have no thought for any one but the Duke, when I 
am in nearly as dire a strait as he is. Pretty conduct for 
my lady bride, indeed.” 

She shuddered and turned her face from him, that he 
might not see the repulsion that filled her soul at this title. 

Vernor arose, and sank down again, saying : 

“ I am tired to death ! Where can I rest, Sir Hugh, till 
the sleuth-hounds come, that are sure to pursue me ? ” 

u A dormitory in the old house must be prepared for you. 
Agnes, you and Ethel bring bedding hither, and I will open 
the doors, and show you where to place it.” 

Mrs. Methurn and Ethel went upon this errand, and Sir 
Hugh unlocked the doors leading into the corridor. The 
nearest cell was selected as the one from which Vernor 


192 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


could soonest hear the alarm, if one should be given, and 
retreat to the Secret Chamber. 

The heavy door slowly yielded to their efforts, and they 
entered a narrow dormitory, lighted by a single window 
placed high up in the wall. Dust, which had long been 
undisturbed, lay upon the few articles of furniture it con- 
tained. There was a stone bench, which had served as a 
couch ; an iron crucifix still hung against the wall, and the 
mouldering remains of a breviary lay upon the floor. 

When Mrs. Methurn came in, carrying an armful of 
blankets, she demurred to placing them upon the bench, 
but Vernor said : 

‘‘It is no matter: there is no chance to clean the place, 
and I w’ould rather let the dust lie where it is, than be 
choked to death with any attempt to remove it. Aunt 
Agnes, place the things that I may lie down, and I trust in 
Heaven that there will be no alarm to-night, for I am so 
wear}' that I shall scarcely have energy to fly to my hiding- 
place.” 

Ethel followed Mrs. Methurn, bringing sheets and pillows, 
and in a few moments a couch was spread on which Vernor 
threw himself, scarcely thanking them for their efforts to 
serve him. 

As they were going away, Sir Hugh said to him : 

tl If there is danger of so pressing a nature that I cannot 
come to you, Vernor, I will strike a loud blow upon the door 
of my room which opens into the adjoining chamber. It 
will vibrate through these empty walls like thunder, and 
you maj' know that no time is to be lost in gaining your 
retreat. Here is a lantern and tinder box to strike a light 
if you should need one.” 

“ I understand, sir,” he drowsily responded, and by the 
time the door was closed on him, he was buried in the sleep 
of weariness and exhaustion, and the three returned to Sir 


THE FUGITIVE. 


193 


Hugh’s room, in a state of extreme perturbation as to what 
next might happen. 

Various rumors had reached them of the violence of the 
soldiery toward those who had shown favor to Monmouth, 
and a vague feeling of dread as to what the next few hours 
might bring forth was upon them all. 

Sir Hugh had scarcely closed the door of communication 
and placed the key in its usual receptacle when a tap came 
upon the window which disturbed them greatly. The next 
moment a woman’s face appeared at the opening, and a 
familiar voice spoke. 

“ It’s only me, Mrs. Methurn. May I come in, Sir 
Hugh ? I have something to tell you that is important.” 

The baronet recognized Mrs. Crofts, the Kate Conway of 
other days, and he replied : 

“ Certainly, Kate — let us hear what you have to say.” 

She glanced around, then stepped upon the broad window 
seat, and sprang into the room, crouching down close to 
the wall, she breathlessly said: 

“ I hope there is no one watching, for I would not have 
them see me for anything. My husband thinks I am safe 
in bed, but while he went down into the village, I ran all 
the way here in the darkness to tell you what is coming, 
that you may be ready to face the danger.” 

“What danger?” asked Sir Hugh, quickly. “Are the 
soldiers coming upon us ? ” 

“Aye, that they are, sir; the men who are in the village 
alehouse swear that the young squire must be about here, 
and they have come to take him. The place is full of them, 
and they are drinking all they can get.” 

“Pooh! why should they think my son is here? Of 
course he will know this will be the first place searched for 
him, and avoid coming hither for a season at least.” 

“I hope so, Sir Hugh, but Mr. Vernor is not the only 

12 


194 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


one in danger,” and she glanced significantly toward Ethel. 

Mrs. Methurn changed color and threw her arms around 
the young girl as she faltered : 

“ Are we all to be arrested, merely for showing ourselves 
friendly toward Monmouth ? ” 

“ I don’t know about you, ma’am : hut Miss Digby has 
been thrown in prison, and many threats have been uttered 
against her for giving the flag. It mayn’t go so hard 
with Miss Ethel, because she only gave the Duke the Bible 
which everybody ought to read. But all the young ladies 
that took part in the procession are in trouble, and I 
thought it best to let you know. Maybe Miss Ethel can 
manage to get out of the way awhile, or she can hide her- 
self in this big house.” 

At the first intimation of danger to herself, Ethel had 
buried her head in Mrs. Methuru’s bosom, but she now 
looked up, very pale, but with an expression of pride upon 
her young face as she said : 

‘‘I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, Kate, in 
coming all this way to warn me of danger, but I shall not 
hide. It would be useless, for I should be found easily 
enough, and so young a girl as I am will not be treated 
harshly for presenting the Word of God fro one who aspired 
to become our ruler. What Alice can bear I also can 
endure. Let them come.” 

“ But they may take you away to Taunton ; they may 
remove you from me,” said Mrs. Methuru in alarm. “Oh, 
would to Heaven we had never taken part in this fatal 
affair. Oh! my darling — my darling, what shall we do?” 

“ We cau do nothing but wait and watch,” said Sir 
Hugh with an oath. “Ethel is right ; she must not con- 
ceal herself, for she has done nothing that men, worthy of 
the name, will punish. My good Kate, do you think the 
soldiers will be here to-night ? ” 




THE FUGITIVE. 195 

“I cannot tell that, sir. I heard it said that they had 
ridden far to-day and were hungry and thirsty. Kirke’s 
lambs don’t often leave the flagon as long as there is a drop 
of liquor in it.” 

“ Kirke ! Good God ! is he sent on this errand with his 
infernal band of cut-throats ? ” gasped Sir Hugh, quite 
overcome, for Kirke was known as the most reckless and 
unscrupulous of leaders, and he and his followers had perpe- 
trated many atrocities, even in less evil times than those he 
had fallen on. 

The flag which was borne at the head of his troop had 
upon it the picture of a Paschal lamb, and in derision the 
name was applied to his band of mercenary desperadoes. 
Many rumors of the outrages perpetrated at Taunton by 
these men had reached the Priory, but the family had 
indulged the hope that they were greatly exaggerated. 
Mrs. Crofts replied : 

“ Kirke is with them himself, for my father talked with 
him a few moments. He inquired the way to the Priory, 
and said he was coming here as soon as his men were suffi- 
ciently rested. He placed sentinels so that no one might 
leave the village to give you the alarm, for he is confident 
that Mr. Vernor has reached here by this time. Our house, 
you know, sir, is just out of the village, and when I heard 
it I determined to risk everything and let you know what 
is coming.” 

“Thank you, Kate; I shall remember the service. Did 
you hear what they have been doing in Taunton ? ” 

She shuddered and changed color. 

“ Oh, sir, it is too dreadful to speak of. Kirke came in 
town from Bridgewater, bringing with him carts filled with 
wounded rebels, who were bleeding and dying without any 
attention being paid to their sufferings. He also had a 
long train of prisoners chained together in couples, and 


196 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


many of those men were hanged without a trial, or without 
being permitted to take leave of their nearest friends.” 

“Good Heavens!” exclaimed Mrs. Methurn, “can these 
things he done among free-born Englishmen?” 

“ Oh ! that’s not the worst, ma’am. He has had men 
hung and quartered every day since he has been there. If 
3 T ou go to Taunton you will see heads stuck on poles nearly 
all the way, or bodies hanging in chains, and no one is 
permitted to take them down. I heard father tell it all to 
my husband, and he got it from the dragoons themselves.” 

Sir Hugh groaned over this relation, and Mrs. Methurn 
clasped Ethel closer to her breast. 

“They must come, if it is their will to do so,” he said ; 
“ but they will find no one here, unless they are unmanly 
enough to seize upon this poor child. They may fine me: 
but they can prove nothing against me except that I was at 
Taunton on the day of Monmouth’s reception there.” 

“ That will be quite enough,” said Mrs. Methurn, 
drearily. “We have all fearfully- compromised ourselves; 
but there is no escape, and we must remain beneath our 
own roof and abide the issue of events.” 

Mrs. Crofts here arose and said : 

“My errand is done, and I must hurry back before my 
absence is discovered. My husband would never forgive me 
if he knew that I had risked so much to warn the young 
Squire.” 

“ The way is too long and lonely for you to venture back 
to-night. Remain here, and I will make your peace with 
your husband,” said Mrs. Methurn. 

She shook her head. 

“No, thank you, ma’am; that would never do. I must 
return as I came, and, as I know every path through the 
woods, nobody will be likejy to catch me. I would risk even 
that sooner than meet the anger of Tom Crofts if he knew 


THE SEARCH. 


197 


that I had boon near the Priory. Good night, ma’am ; I 
hope you’ll all win through safely yet ; and if I can serve 
you in any way, I’ll gladly do it.” 

Ethel drew near her and took hor hand as she warmly 
thanked her for the risk she had run to serve thorn ; but 
Mrs. Crofts replied briefly, and withdrew her hand from her 
clasp as soon as she could do so without rudeness. She saw 
in Ethel only a rival who had won from her her first love, 
and hor jealous heart had not quite forgiven her even yet. 

After bidding adieu to Sir Hugh, she sprang through the 
window and swiftly crossed the lawn. The night was clear 
and starlit ; but there was no moon, and her figure was soon 
lost in the shadows of the shrubbery. 

There was no sleep that night for the three who sat to- 
gether during its long hours watching and listening for the 
approach of those they so much feared and dreaded. 

Toward morning, utterly worn out with fatigue, Ethel’s 
head fell upon the shoulder of Mrs. Methurn, and she gain- 
ed a few moments of oblivion from the perils that menaced 
them ; but bitter were the tears shed over her by her fond 
protectress as she lay white and still within her arms. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE SEARCH. 

When the sun arose, Mrs. Methurn and Ethel retired to 
their own apartments, and arranged their dress for the re- 
ception of those they felt assured would arrive at an early 
hour. 

When breakfast was served, Ethel feigned indisposition, 
that an excuse might be offered for sending her food up to 


198 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


her own apartment. She dismissed the maid that brought 
it up, and then with fleet steps carried the waiter to the 
apartment of Sir Hugh. 

It had not been thought advisable to arouse Vernor on 
the preceding night, and it had been arranged that Ethel 
should seize the opportunity to take food to him while the 
servants were engaged in their morning avocations, and 
warn him to retire at once to his place of refuge. 

With a fluttering heart, she took the rusty keys .from 
their hiding place, and fitted one to the lock, listening every 
instant for the sound of an arrival. The doors opened before 
her, and she entered the corridor, but she was forced to 
knock thrice upon the door before Yernor made any re- 
sponse. 

At length he spoke in a drowsy tone : 

“ Who is there ? What the d — 1 do you want with 
me?” 

“It is I, Yernor. Awake, and open the door quickly, for 
I have not a moment to lose.” 

There was the sound of a portentous yawn, then the 
shuffling of feet, and the door was lazily unclosed. 

“ Oh, it’s you, Lady Bird. I thought Sir Hugh would 
have come to me himself. I have slept like the dead, 
although the couch was none of the softest ; but it was so 
much better than any I ’ve lately had that it didn’t matter 
much. I hope you have brought me a good breakfast, for I 
am as hungry as a wolf.” 

“ Yes, it’s very good ; please eat it as fast as you can, 
while I take these things away ; for the soldiers are in the 
village, and we are looking for them here every moment. 
As soon as you can eat, you had better go to your hiding- 
place.” 

“ The soldiers ! who told you they are coming ? It may 
be a false alarm ” 


THE SEARCH. 


199 


“ No, no. Kate Crofts came to warn us last night ; but 
the men were drinking at the village ale-house, and Sir 
Hugh thought they would not be here till they had their 
carouse out, so we let you sleep on.” 

11 And Kate came. She is a good creature, and I treated 
her badly once. She thought I would marry her, and I 
fancy you wish I had, Ethel.” 

“ Don’t stop to talk now, Yernor, for we have not a 
moment to lose. Pray hurry, and do not drop any food, as 
it might betray that you have been recently hidden here.” 

“Well, well, take away the bedding, then, and make 
things safe. I will devour my rations as speedily as I can.” 

While he was thus employed, Ethel removed the bed- 
clothes to Sir Hugh’s room, and thrust them into the closet. 
She then returned for the tray ; she paused to watch Ver- 
nor close the door of the dormitory, and gain the farther 
extremity of the corridor. As he was opening the door 
that led into the chapel, the tramp of many horses, approach- 
ing at full gallop, was heard. He cried out to her : 

“ Get back — save yourself, Ethel,” and the next moment 
he had disappeared, and closed the door behind him. 

She fled toward Sir Hugh’s room, locked the doors with 
frantic speed, and replaced the keys where she had found 
them. Then hurrying to her own room she threw herself 
upon the bed in a paroxysm of terror. 

In the meantime a squad of cavalry, headed by a middle- 
aged man, of coarse and brutal appearance, drew up in front 
of the house. A thundering demand soon came to open in 
the name of the king. 

The affrighted servauts rushed into the breakfast-room, 
exclaiming that the house was surrounded, and the lawn 
filled with dragoons. The knocking continued with great 
violence, and Sir Hugh angrily said : 

“ Open the door, fools ; do you intend to let it be battered 
down ? When the king commands we must all obey.” 


200 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


With a pale face the porter crossed the hall, and removed 
the bar that defended the door. Sir Hugh, assuming all his 
firmness, advanced to meet the intruders. The leader had 
dismounted, and as the door swung back, he strode iu, 
angrily saying : 

“ Was it well, Hugh Methurn, with all the charges against 
you, to have your house barricaded against his majesty’s 
troops. You are a cursed rebel, sir, and I mean to make 
your pay the penalty of your late acts before I am done with 
you.” 

“ And T ask you, Sir, if this is the way to enter the house 
of an English gentleman ? ” demanded the baronet, with 
his usual fiery spirit. “ You are Colonel Kirke, I believe, 
and 1 should be glad to know by what authority you invade 
the privacy of my abode ? ” 

u By the authority of the king’s warrant, sir. You have 
aided and abetted the late rebellion, you and all your family, 
sir. Your son is in hiding here, and he was one of Mon- 
mouth’s nearest friends. You need not try to bluster with 
me, for I can beat the d — 1 at that dodge. Oh, I promise 
you, when Kirke’s lambs come down on a man, they don’t 
often leave him a loophole to creep through.” 

He threw himself upon one of the large hall-chairs, and a 
group of iron-looking men crowded through the doorway to 
listen to the colloquy. Sir Hugh also sat down, for he felt 
himself unable to stand, and after a moment’s pause to col- 
lect his thoughts for the emergency, he said : 

“ I have had nothing to do with the rebellion. I used all 
my influence to dissuade my son from entering Monmouth’s 
service, and he finally did so without my knowledge.” 

“ So he confided his intention to you, and yet you did not 
warn the government,” roared Kirke. “That is rank trea- 
son, sir — rank treason; and I’ll make you smart for that 
admission before I am done with you. You were in Taun- 


THE SEARCH. 


201 


ton on the day of Monmouth’s reception there ; you and 
your sister-in-law were presented to him, and your son’s 
wife gave him a bible. You are all a cursed set of rebels, 
and you may think yourself lucky if I do not order you to 
be strung up in front of your own door. I’ve had as much 
done to better men than you, sir.” 

Sir Hugh would have been alarmed at this rude address 
if he had not known that Kirke was among the most venal 
of men, and a bribe to him would enable him to escape the 
heaviest penalty of his late actions. He replied : 

“I was at Taunton on the occasion you mention, and my 
ward obe} T ed the wishes of her husband in going thither. 
She is yet a child in years, and the utmost the law can do 
is to impose a fine upon me for weakly consenting to go there 
at all.” 

“Don’t talk to me about a fine, sir. The whole of your 
beggarlj T estate will scarcely buy off such a double-dyed trai- 
tor as you have proved yourself. Where is your son ? I 
have the surest information that he came hither last night, 
and I took such precautions as prevented him from escaping 
again. Open your doors, and let my lambs search for this 
young wolf; they’ll prove more than a match for him. I’ll 
warrant.” 

“The house lies before them; let them search it if they 
will ; but you will not find Vernor Methurn here. He would 
not be so mad as to come hither, for he would be aware that 
this would be the first spot in which he would be sought. I 
trust he has ere this escaped by sea.” 

“ Ho ! ho ! if that is your hope, you lean on a broken staff. 
I defy any of Monmouth’s followers to get away from Eng- 
land in that way, for every spot on the coast is guarded. I 
know you of old, Hugh Methurn, and the truth is not often 
found on your lips. Since you say the young man is not 
here, I am convinced that he is concealed in this house. 


202 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Spread yourselves, fellows ; search the inhabited portion of 
the building, and then come to me for further orders.” 

Twenty men rushed forward in a disorderly manner to 
obey his command. After the lapse of half an hour they 
returned, bringing with them Mrs. Methurn and Ethel as 
prisoners. The sergeant reported that no indications of Ver- 
nor had been found. Kirke Turned to the two ladies, and, 
addressing the elder one, said : 

“ So, madam, you must hie away to Taunton to see the 
handsome Duke, who will soon be made shorter by the head ; 
and this young girl must present him the Word of God as 
the guide of his life. I hope the gift will console him in 
the hour that draws near for him.” 

Ethel impulsively exclaimed : 

“ Oh ! sir, I hope the King will have mercy on his own 
nephew. He has not surely condemned him.” 

Kirke regarded the young speaker with an expression of 
surprise mingled with admiration, for he was a connoisseur 
in female beauty. 

“Eh ! my lady, you’re a young bird to chirp so bravely. 
You had better be thinking of your own life, for it may be 
in danger from your late actions. The Duke is doomed.” 

Ethel clasped her hands over her face and burst into 
tears. The ruffian arose, and, approaching her, drew her 
hands forcibly away, and looked upon her paling face. 

“ Eh, it’s a pretty little thing, and it’s a pity she risked 
her neck in this foolish affair. I hate to see pretty girls 
hardly dealt with ; give me a kiss, little one, and I promise 
to speak a good word for you.” 

With indignant surprise she tore herself from his grasp, 
and passionately asked : 

“ How -dare you insult me thus ? Sir Hugh, can you not 
protect me from this man ? ” 

“Ho ! ho ! I’d like to see him protect himself. You’re a 


THE SEARCH. 


203 


Bpicy little d 1, and I don’t like you the less for showing 

your mettle. I’m sorry that I shall be the means of taking 
your husband from you ; but such a pretty girl as you will be 
sure to find another soon ; that is, if you manage to escape 
the consequences of your late treasonable conduct your- 
self.” 

“ I have done nothing that I regret,” she proudly replied. 
“ It is no crime to present the Word of God to any one, and 
he whose cause I thus endeavored to serve will protect me.” 

Kirke burst into a coarse laugh. 

“ Well, well — if your divine protector proves stronger 
than King James and his lawyers, I shall be mistaken. I 
arrest yon, Ethel Clifton Methurn, in the name of his Ma- 
jesty, and I shall take you with me to Taunton to await ycur 
trial for your late misdemeanor.” 

Mrs. Methurn here stepped forward, and said : 

“ Leave this young girl with her natural protectors ; she 
shall be forthcoming at the proper time. Do not remove her 
from her home.” 

“ Heigho, madam, you had better petition for yourself, 
for yop too are implicated in this affair. I think I shall 
take you along also, for my orders were to arrest the whole 
family. I advise you to get ready to accompany me, with- 
out further words. Simpson, take the women to their own 
rooms, and place a sentinel before the doors.” 

This order was promptly obeyed, and then turning to Sir 
Hugh, Kirke went on : 

“ Now my jolly baronet, I’ll trouble you to become our 
guide through the older portions of the house. These old 
rat-traps have plenty of hiding-places, but my men are keen 
at finding their way into them. Come — move on, sir; I am 
not accustomed to wait when I have once issued an order.” 

Sir Hugh slowly arose as he said : 

“ A little more courtesy would not be out of place, I 


204 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


think, sir, from an officer in his majesty’s army to a gentle- 
man in his own house ; but since you are invested with 
absolute authority, nothing remains to me but to obey you. 
Search every nook upon my premises, and you will find no 
vestige of my son. Thank God ! he is beyond your reach.” 

“ Perhaps so — but I shall not fail to make the most mi- 
nute investigation. Your word is not as good as your bond, 
Sir Hugh.” 

“ I have no doubt the last will prove more valuable to 
you,” replied the baronet, w T ith a look which gave addi- 
tional emphasis to his words. He moved toward his own 
apartment, followed by the eager troopers, and in a few mo- 
ments they all stood in the gloom} 7 corridor. The bats, 
startled from their repose by the unusual clamor, circled 
around the heads of the men, who wildly struck at them 
with their matchlocks. 

The stern voice of their commander arose : 

“ Cease this idle strife, and open every door leading into 
this place.” 

In a few moments the order was obeyed, and the tenant- 
less cells were laid open to inspection. At a glance it was 
seen that no inmate w T as concealed in them, but the keen 
eyes of Kirke detected recent footprints in the one which 
Yernor had occupied the preceding night. 

“ Ha ! ” he exclaimed, “ a bird has been here, but has 
flown at our approach. Who has occupied this place lately, 
Sir Hugh ? If you will not answer, probably your ward can, 
for here are footprints that I dare sw r ear were made by her 
dainty feet.” 

Sir Hugh looked doum and saw the small tracks made 
by Ethel in her late visit, distinctly defined upon the dusty 
covering of the floor, and he internally cursed the thought- 
lessness that had suffered them to remain. He replied : 

“ My sister and Ethel desired to visit this portion of the 


THE SEARCH. 


205 


house, and did so a few days ago; they entered this cell, 
but no other. If we had expected such a visitation as this, 
we might have taken the precaution to obliterate these 
marks. They prove nothing. Let us proceed with the 
search you wish to make.” 

“ I shall proceed, and I shall find what I came to seek,” 
replied Kirke, significantly.. 

They next entered the chapel, and carefully examined 
every portion of it. Sir Hugh then led the way to a large 
hall, which had served the monks as a refection room. The 
abbot’s apartment opened from this; but all was in such a 
state of dilapidation, as showed how long and completely 
they had been deserted. 

Ar the end of an hour every nook had been explored, and 
the leader gruffly said : 

“Our quarry is in none of these; but there are vaults 
beneath. All these old religious houses have a perfect 
honeycomb of cells beneath their foundations. Show us the 
way to them, if you please, Sir Hugh.” 

They were then in the refection room, and the baronet 
pointed to a heavily barred door. 

“ Through that you will gain access to the vaults.” 

On opening it, a flight of stone steps appeared, which 
Kirke narrowly scanned by the light of the torches he 
ordered to be brought. He saw no evidence of their having 
lately been used, nor had it escaped him that the cobwebs 
were unbroken over the bars his men removed. 

He began to fear that Vernor would evade him, for a 
large reward was offered for bis arrest, as it was believed 
that he had papers of 'importance to the government in his 
possession. Kirke swore at his men, and rated Sir Hugh 
in the rudest manner; and although he saw that he was 
ready to sink from fatigue, he forced him to go on as the 
pioneer of the party. Every avenue was passed through, 




206 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 




every door opened, and a thorough search made for the 
fugitive. Sir Hugh’s heart beat painfully, and the blood 
rushed to his brain in a seething torrent, as they passed in 
front of the wall in which the concealed door was situated, 
but he breathed freer when they left it behind them with- 
out a suspicion of its existence. Kirke said : 

“ Diable ! it seems that there is no one here. Now lead 
us to the subterranean outlet, if you please, for I am aware 
that such a one exists.” 

Sir Hugh gladly obeyed, for he had managed to avoid 
the staircase leading into the chapel, and the whole party 
followed him through the winding way to the broken 
entrance which opened upon the park. On issuing from it, 
he saw that sentinels were placed at intervals around the 
whole place. He drily said : 

“In this instance, Colonel, you have found that my word 
was to be taken ; come with me to my room, and let us 
settle how much my bond is worth.” 

Kirke nodded intelligently, and gave his order to his 
men to return to the lawn in front of the house, while he 
conferred with its master. Disappointed and chagrined at 
their want of success, the soldiers sullenly obeyed, and Sir 
Hugh led the way to that side on which his own apartment 
was situated, followed by Kirke. 

When they gained it, he rang and ordered ale to be taken 
to the troopers, and then threw himself upon a seat to 
regain his breath after the severe exercise he. had taken. 

“Well, sir,” said Kirke, “what have you to say in 
private to me? Your son has evaded me in a strange 
manner, for I am not often at fault in the information given 
me. He spent last night in this house, of that I am 
certain ; and if I had not permitted my men to stop at the 
village, I should have trapped him. I shall do it yet, be 
sure of that.” 


THE SEARCH. 


207 


“ If you find him, take him ; that is all I have to say on 
that score. And now as it regards this arrest for myself 
and my family, can we not evade it in some way ? Are 
you certain that the warrant is really out for us, or only for 
my son ? ” 

He fixed his keen gaze on Kirke, who laughed aloud. 

“Ho! by the mass, you are a shrewd fellow, Sir Hugh. 
No warrant has been issued for you, but I have authority 
delegated to me to take charge of all suspicious persons. I 
consider you a very suspicious character, and therefore I 
take it upon myself to arrest you in the name of his Majesty. 
Kemember, sir, that with my troopers at my back, my 
power is not to be disputed.” 

“ It is not my purpose to do so ; but I would make it to 
your interest to be as lenient as possible in its exercise. 
The utmost that can be done to me is to levy a fine upon 
my estate. I am old and infirm ; it would go hard with me 
to be imprisoned, therefore I offer you a hundred pounds to 
leave me in peace, and to use your influence to prevent us 
from being farther molested.” 

“Us! am I to understand that all your family is to be 
included in this amnesty? ” 

“No, not all ; for my son can care for his own safety. 
Only the ladies of my household aud myself. It will be 
absurd to punish a child like Ethel for what she did the 
other day. She is romantic and enthusiastic, and her feel- 
ings carried her away. She and my son acted against my 
judgment, and to do Mrs. Methurn justice, she too opposed 
the appearance of Ethel in the procession at Taunton, but 
the wilful ness of the young people overruled us.” 

Kirke listened attentive!}", and after a pause said : 

“ Well, I’m sadly out at elbows just now, and if you will 
make the sum two hundred I will agree to leave you in 
your own house with a guard of two men to answer for 




208 THE gipsy’s warning. 

your appearance at the assizes, for every prominent man 
engaged in this affair must undergo some sort of a trial. 
Your offense and that of your sister was comparatively 
light, and a sop to Cerberus in the shape of a few hundred 
pounds will set all right; but your ward will suffer more 
heavily. That Bible will cost her a round sum, even if she 
escapes with that penalty.” 

“ Ethel has money, and she can pay a reasonable ransom ; 
but two hundred pounds is a large sum for me to give. I 
will pay you the one hundred I offered in gold.” 

Kirke laughed sardonically. 

(i I know 3 r our affairs pretty well, Sir Hugh, and I know 
that of late 3 T ears you have managed to increase your rent 
roll till it now amounts to a prett3 T respectable sum. You 
are bargaining for your very life, for you can never live a 
week in the wretched prison in Taunton. An infectious 
fever already rages in it, and you will probably be detained 
a month or two before 3'our trial will come on. Balance 
3'onr life against your money, and make 3 T our decision. 
You go with me, or pa3 T the two hundred pounds.” 

Sir Hugh looked at the inflexible face of the speaker, and 
with a heav T 3 T sigh, replied: 

“ Since it must be so, I will give you even that sooner 
than go to prison.” 

He went to a desk and from a private drawer produced a 
rouleau of gold. 

“ I had hoarded this for a different purpose, but I suppose 
it is as well employed to purchase indemnity for the present 
as in an3' other wa3\” 

The eyes of Kirke sparkled at the sight of the gold, and 
he weighed the parcel in his hand a moment before speak- 
ing. 

“ You’re a trump, Sir Hugh, in spite of the hard things 
that are said of you. In this matter I can trust to your 


THE SEARCH. 


209 


word for you would not dare to deceive me. I will count 
over the money when I get back to my own den.” 

“ You will find all right, and now how long do you sup- 
pose it will be before we shall be summoned to appear in 
court ? ” 

"It may be a month, or it may be longer. Jeffreys is on 
liis way to Taunton, and he will make expeditious work with 
the infernal rebels. The king is resolved to make the 
people afraid of another outbreak, and Gad ! I think he 
chose well for that purpose when he sent me and my lambs 
to harry them and Jeffreys to sit in judgment on them. 
But time passes, Sir Hugh, and I must go on the track of 
that son of yours. He has papers that the government is 
anxious to secure, and I do not mind telling so liberal a 
person as you are that he may save his own neck by giving 
them up.” 

“ As to the papers, I shouldn’t care if they were in your 
hands now ; but I hope Yernor will get safely out of the 
country. If he does, he will come to terms with the govern- 
ment and surrender the documents for — a consideration.” 

Kirke burst into a brutal laugh, and struck the old man 
smartly on the shoulder, saying: 

“ Like father, like son. Master Yernor has sold himself 
once for his wife’s fortune, and now he will sell his master 
for the thirty pieces of silver. The young Judas ! ” 

Sir Hugh flushed, but he thought it best to make no reply 
to the truth so bluntly spoken, so he arose with his unwel- 
come guest, and accompanied him to the hall. 

At a sign from Kirke the troopers rushed in a disorderly 
manner to their horses, and the stern voice of their comman- 
der issued his orders. He beckoned a man toward him and 
said : 

“ Jones, you and Simpson will remain on guard here, and 
see that not one of the household leaves the premises. 
13 


210 THE gipsy’s warning. 

Await further orders from me, and keep a keen lookout for 
the person we came to seek : send me a daily report of all 
that happens.” 

The man touched his hat with a slight show of respect as 
he replied : 

“ I understand, Colonel. The ale here is pretty good, 
and I shan’t quarrel with my quarters as long as it flows 
freely.” 

“ See that you do not drink too much of it, sirrah. You 
know me, and you comprehend that the neglect of your 
duty will he severely punished.” 

The trooper nodded and curtly replied : 

“ Tim Jones and Tom Simpson knows their duty as well 
as ere a Iamb in your regiment, Colonel. We can take a 
gallon of the strongest tap, and be as fresh as if we had 
swallowed so much water.” 

Kirke smiled grimly, and turned to his horse, which a 
trooper was holding in front of the door. Springing into 
the saddle, he waved his hand to Sir Hugh and said : 

“ Good morning ; present my compliments to your pretty 
ward, and tell her that if I can I will give her a chance to 
get a better husband. Ho ! ho ! ” and his coarse laugh was 
lost in the clatter of hoofs as the troop swept away in the 
direction of the dell once occupied by the Gipsy’s encamp- 
ment. 

Sir Hugh glared after them and muttered : 

“ So — you intend to search the woodland for your prey ; 
hut you’ll not find him there, thank Heaven ! ” 

He turned away and went toward his own room, closely 
followed by Jones. The servants were still huddled in a 
frightened group at the lower end of the hall, and the 
trooper paused and spoke to them. 

“ Look here, you men and women ; this house is under 
military law, and I’m the provost marshal. Ef one o’ you 


THE SEARCH. 


211 


does one thing that I don’t permit, I’ll he after you with a 
baggonet. You’re to furnish me and my comrade with the 
best vittles and drink, and you’re not to go outside o’ the 
place without a permit from me. Do you understand ? ” 

Faint murmurs came from the alarmed menials, but not 
one had courage to reply intelligibly. 

Jones then followed Sir Hugh into his room. With an 
oath the old man turned on him and asked : 

“ Why do you come in here, fellow ? Go to the kitchen 
and let them give you the best the house affords; I wish to 
be alone.” 

“I’m sorry to circumvent your wishes, Sir Hugh; but 
it’s my business not to lose sight o’ you. You heard your- 
self what Kirke said, and he’d shoot me if I was to let you 
get away from this ere rum old den.” 

He sat down as he spoke, and composedly crossed his legs. 
Sir Hugh was in a fever of anxiety to join Vernor, for he 
feared that when all was still, with his natural recklessness, 
he would venture forth and make his presence known by 
knocking on the door which communicated with the corri- 
dor. 

After a few moments of perturbed thought, he said : 

“ I wish to visit my sister. Since your comrade watches 
before her door, you can order ale to be brought to you in 
the hall, while I go up to her room.” 

“ Well, old fellow, that aint unreasonable, and I must say 
that you understand the duties o’ hospertalerty. I’ll accept 
your offer, but by your leave, I’ll set by this ere door, and 
have it left open ; ’cause the bird that lately perched in that 
cell beyond, may come back an’ try to git through on this 
side.” 

The man was evidently as shrewd as a police detective, 
and with a strong effort the irascible baronet controlled the 
expression of his ire. Jones was soon estabished to his sat- 


212 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


isfaction just without the door, with a huge tankard of ale, 
with bread and cold meat, before him. 

Sir Hugh then slowly ascended the staircase, at the head 
of which he found Simpson slowly pacing to and fro in front 
of Mrs. Methurn’s room. He touched his hat as the baronet 
approached him, and offering him a piece of money, the 
latter said : 

“ You can join your comrade below a few moments, where 
I have had refreshments placed for you. There is no way of 
escape from this floor, except by the way of the staircase, 
and we have no idea of attempting to leave the house.” 

The soldier surveyed him carefully. The purple flush 
had died out of his face ; it looked wild and haggard, and he 
moved as if all the vital force had left his body. He roughly 
said : 

“ Well, old cock, I believe I may trust you, for you are in 
no fix to tramp anywhere yourself, an’ ef them ere ladies 
tries that dodge, they’ll be nabbed by some o’ the men out- 
side, for my Colonel aint a goin’ to leave this wale of beauty 
till he traps the fox what earthed here last night. You can 
go in and tell ’em so, and I’ll go down to the crater com- 
forts.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 

Sir Hugh found Mrs. Methurn and Ethel clasped in each 
other’s arms, and he sank into a chair completely unnerved 
by all he had gone through in the last eighteen hours. 

“Their search was in vain,” said Mrs. Methurn, “and 
Vernor has escaped them; but must we go with them? Is 
that dreadful man inexorable ?” 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 213 


“He is gone,” replied Sir Hugh. “At a heavy price I 
bought from him the privilege to be held as a prisoner in 
my own house. Heaven help me ! I had saved that money 
to enable Yernor to escape if things should go wrong with 
him in this venture; but nearly all had to go in the hands 
of that cormorant.” 

“Are they all gone?” asked Ethel, quickly. “Then we 
can seek poor Vernor and bring him among us again.” 

“ Ho, child ; two are left as spies upon us, and I believe 
that the whole troop will form a cordon around the place, as 
long as they think there is a chance to take my poor boy. 
I am dreadfully shaken, and if they should catch him, I be- 
lieve it would kill me outright.” 

Ethel approached him, and tenderly taking his shaking 
hand in hers, stroked it gently. 

“ But they will not find him, Sir Hugh. Vernor is strong 
and shrewd, and he will outwit them yet. Be of good 
cheer ; since his place of concealment was not detected he 
is safe, if we can manage to convey food to him. He can 
stay in hiding till the excitement is over.” 

“Aye — but how are we to communicate with him ? Two 
men are left § to guard us, and they are keeping watch upon 
my room. I am in dread lest Yernor should come up and 
a PP ly f° r admittance. Yet I was forced to come here a few 
moments to speak with Agnes. Wbat shall we do? My 
brain is not clear, and I cannot decide what course is best to 
pursue.” 

“ Is there no other avenue by which we can enter the 
vaults except that through your room?” asked Mrs. Meth- 
urn. “ I have heard that there is a door behind the tapes- 
try in the dressing-room that was once Lady Methurn’s. 
You must know if it is so.” 

Sir Hugh changed color and shuddered, for he recalled 
the hour in which a death-like form had been borne through 


214 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 

that door, and from that day it had been closed up by his 
own hands. He faintl}’ said: 

“ There was an outlet, but — but, 1 had hoped never to be 
forced to enter that room again.” 

Mrs. Methurn was surprised at his emotion, for she did 
not give him credit for such tender affection for his departed 
wife as to withhold him from visiting her apartments. She 
asked : 

“ Did you not go in there with the men who searched the 
house ? ” 

“No, they only required my presence with them as guide 
in the older portions of the building. The door of which 
you speak is concealed behind the tapestry, and has also a 
heav3 r wardrobe placed in front of it. Otherwise the soldiers 
must have discovered it.” 

“Then we can gain access to Yernor. There is a door in 
Ethel’s room which communicates with Lady Methurn’s 
apartments. Come with us, to assist in moving the piece 
of furniture of which you spoke; we must lose no time, for 
the sentinel may return to see if we are safe in here.” 

With much effort the old man arose, and led the way 
toward the rooms which had been so long disused. On that 
side of the house there was a suite of apartments, three of 
which were occupied b}' Mrs. Methurn and Ethel; the others 
had been appropriated to the deceased lady of the mausion, 
and had never been used since her death. 

Mrs. Methurn carried the key with her, and in a few 
moments they stood in the deserted chamber. The heavy 
old-fashioned furniture stood exactly as when Lady Methurn 
had occupied it ; the walls were covered with richly wrought 
tapestry, and the windows and bed had heavy brocade cur- 
tains falling over them. 

The door opening into the dressing-room was unclosed and 
with a heavy heart and unwilling feet Sir Hugh entered it. 


/ 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 


215 


The wardrobe of which he had spoken was an immense 
armoire, brought from France, and the carved cornice 
reached nearly to the ceiling. With great effort, they suc- 
ceeded in removing it from the wall sufficiently to permit 
them to pass behind it. 

“The door gives into the garrets above the old house,” 
said Sir Hugh, “and through them we can reach the 
chapel.” 

A few vigorous pushes sent the door open with a crash, 
but the way beyond was dark, for it lay under the eaves of 
the older portion of the Priory. 

Ethel flew back to her own room to get a tinder-box and 
candles, but before returning with them she passed into 
Mrs. Methurn’s apartment, and slightly unclosing the door, 
listened for the sound of the troopers’ voices below. 

They seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly, for their 
jovial chat was mingled with snatches of song, and she 
sped back with the assurance that for the present all was 
safe. 

The candle was soon lighted, and the three passed 
through the immense garret, the roof of which was sup- 
ported by a double row of dark-looking rafters. It was 
barely high enough for a tall man to pass through the cen- 
tre, and the sloping roof came nearly to the floor on either 
side. 

At the farthest extremity was a flight of decaying stairs, 
which Sir Hugh looked on with apprehension. He said : 

“ I am afraid they will never bear my weight, but I must 
descend them. At the foot is a sliding panel concealed 
behind one of the pillars that supports the roof of the chapel. 
I am terribly spent by the unusual exertions of the day, but 
my boy’s safety is at stake, and I must risk everything to 
ensure that.” 

“ Cannot I go down ? ” asked Ethel. “ I am light, and 


216 


THE GIPSY'S WARNING. 


the steps will not be likely to give way beneath me. Tell 
me how to open the panel, sir, and I think I shall be able 
to do it.” 

“No, child, I must risk it myself, for you could not find 
your way to Vernor’s hiding-place. Light the other candle, 
Agnes, and after you see me safe to the bottom, you and 
Ethel return to your room. Keep the men at bay for a 
half an hour, for I cannot be back in less time.” 

“ Let mo follow' you to the lower step, and learn how to 
manage the spring,” pleaded the young girl; “it may yet 
be necessary for me to use it.” 

“You are right, child ; but I did not believe you had so 
much forethought. Bring the light, and follow me care- 
fully.” 

Mrs. Methurn stood above, holding her candle over the 
dark aperture, and Ethel stepped lightly after the heavy 
form of the baronet, carrying hers. Sir Hugh placed his 
feet on each step with extreme caution, holding to a rough 
bar of wood that ran along one side. They creaked fear- 
fully beneath his weight, but after a few moments of 
breathless suspense, he stood safely at the bottom, Ethel 
hovering just above him, like a spirit of light and beauty. 

After a few trials the panel slid back, and he stepped into 
the chapel. With a sigh of relief he took the candle from 
her hand, and said : 

“Return to your room now; I shall reach Yernor in 
safety.” 

She obeyed him, and Sir Hugh proceeded to the flat 
stone which opened into the vaults. At the foot of the 
steps he was compelled to sit down and take breath, and the 
deadly pallor that overspread his wrinkled face showed that 
he was suffering both physically and mentally. This fear- 
ful interruption to the even tenor of his life had given a 
shock to his system from which he felt he would never 


recover. 


t 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 217 

After a few moments he aroused himself, and moved with 

great effort toward the avenue in which the secret chamber 

was situated. More than once he fancied he saw a figure 

© 

flitting before him, but on passing his hand over his eyes to 
steady his vision, he knew that it was only a fantasy pro- 
duced by the state of excitement in which the events of the 
day had thrown him. 

He reached the wall, touched the spring, and as the door 
opened Vernor stood before him, with an expression of fear 
and anguish on his white face that made him start back 
with terror. 

“ Why do you look thus?” he faltered. “ Your face is 
enough to sca^e one.” 

- “ Is it ? ” said the young man, fiercely. “ Then it only 
mirrors what is passing within me. I dropped my lantern 
on coming in, and the light was extinguished. I have been 
shut up in this dark hole three hours, unable to find the 
spring that opens the door, or I should have ventured out as 
soon as those cursed troopers left the vaults. I stood in 
here, and heard their blood-thirsty cries, but I was safe, ha! 
ha ! They will never track me to my asylum, that is one 
comfort.” 

“ Then why should you have been so much alarmed ? 
You knew that I would come to you as soon as it was safe 
to do so.” 

“ Aye — but they might have arrested you and taken you 
away. Then I should have died here, trapped like a fox ; 
have died in darkness — of famine ! Oh ! I believe that I 
am twenty years older than when I came into this infernal 
den ; besides, I have had a strange vision, Sir Hugh, which 
unnerved me as you see.” 

“ A vision ! ” faltered the old man ; “ nonsense, Vernor. 
Why should a man of sense yield to such a fantasy ? I 
thought you had more courage.” 


218 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


" I know it was folly ; but if you had been shut up in a 
dark cell without the power to find the way out, I believe 
you would have suffered as intensely as I did. I passed 
my hands many times over the frame of the door, but I 
could find no means of freeing myself from this dreadful 
place. I exhausted myself with efforts to do so; and 
afraid to leave the opening, lest I should never be able to 
find it again, I sat down and leaned my head against the 
wall. A numbing stupor seemed to fall on me, which I 
could not shake off ; I am not conscious that I slept, though 
I could not have been completely awake. I closed my eyes 
to shut out the darkness that encompassed me, and in a few 
moments a circle of light seemed to flicker in them, in 
which was distinctly mirrored the staircase that leads to the 
room above, and I saw descending it a tall woman clothed 
in white. She came toward me, and waving her hand 
above my head, wailed forth : 

“Not now — not now is the hour of your doom; but in 
years to come beware of this room : it is fatal to me and 
mine — fatal to me and mine ! ” 

As the last words were slowly repeated, she stooped as if 
she meant to kiss me, and I saw her face. Sir Hugh, it 
was not that of the stranger you laid in the stone sarcopha- 
gus above ; it was the face of my dead mother, and I knew 
it by the portrait that hangs in the gallery. I cannot stay 
here. I will not go up to that chamber ; I would rather 
risk being taken by Kirke and his myrmidons.” 

Sir Hugh was superstitious, as most people were in his 
day, and he listened with dread to his son’s words ; but he 
spoke lightly : 

“Nonsense, Vernor ! you were overcome with fatigue, and 
you slumbered lightly. In the strait you are in, you natu- 
rally thought of your lost mother, and the fantasies of 
dreamland are unaccountable to wiser people than you or 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 


219 


me. Two soldiers are left to watch the house, and you will 
expose yourself to extreme danger by leaving your place of 
refuge. I came hither at great risk to myself to warn you 
not to attempt to enter my room, for a strict guard is kept 
upon it.” 

“ How then did you manage to evade them ? ” 

u I came through the garrets by a way unknown to you ; 
but you are safer here than you can be elsewhere. I will 
leave you a light, and Ethel will place food in the chapel 
for 3’ou. You can safely venture that far to obtain it, as I 
do not think the troops will invade the vaults again.” 

“I will brave such danger as there may be,” said Ver- 
nor, recklessly. “ The face of an enemy is familiar to me ; 
but to stay shut up here with yonder dead woman I will 
not. I can return with you, sir, and take up my abode in 
the garrets you mentioned. It will be easier for you to 
communicate with me there.” 

Sir Hugh would have combated this determination, but 
Vernor refused to listen to him. A strange dread of the 
vaults had seized him, which he would make no effort to 
overcome, and together they at length went out and closed 
the door behind them. Vernor held the light close to the 
wall, and laughed as he said : 

“No wonder the troopers missed it; I, who know where 
to find the entrance, would never dream of its existence 
from looking at this blank wall. Let us get away, sir, for 
you begin to look very ghastly; you have been forced to 
over-fatigue yourself by that brutal Kirke, and I shouldn’t 
wonder if you had another dreadful attack of the gout. 
Lean on me till we get out of this dismal place.” 

The old man was very glad to avail himself of the strong 
arm of his son, for he felt scarcely able to sustain himself, 
and they went slowly toward the stairs. They passed 
safely through the chapel, and Sir Hugh showed Vernor 
how to fasten the panel. 


220 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


With great effort the baronet ascended the narrow, mould- 
ering stairs, and Yernor sprang after him. Ethel stood at 
the top watching for Sir Hugh’s return, and she offered a 
surprised greeting to Yernor. 

“ Our sentinel has returned,” she said. “ He has knock- 
ed at the door and asked for you. I told him you were rest- 
ing ; but he seemed suspicious that something was wrong. 
We had better hurry into aunty’s room, and Yernor can 
remain here till we can provide for his wants.” 

“ He can come with us for a little while. After the thor- 
ough search the soldiers made this morning, I do not think 
they will return to this part of the house.” 

Yernor gladly assented to this arrangement, and they 
traversed the length of the garret, and entered the dressing- 
room. The young man glanced at the wardrobe and said : 

“ If I only had a saw to remove a portion of the back of 
this piece of furniture, I could secure a retreat at a moment’s 
notice. We can then replace the wardrobe against the wall 
so that the existence of the door will never be suspected.” 

“Bravo, lad, that is a bright thought, and we will manage 
to get one from the tool house. But now I must get back 
and see what the spies are after. I leave you to Agnes and 
Ethel — they will take good care of you. You had better 
confine yourself to these two apartments, for if danger ap- 
proaches them you can have timely warning.” 

A loud knock was heard on Mrs. Methurn’s door, and Sir 
Hugh hastened to regain her apartment. He went out and 
haughtily said to Simpson, who wore a surly and suspicious 
face : 

“ After the fatigue I have undergone to-day, I think you 
might permit me to repose quietly a few moments. I feel 
that I am growing ill, for I am unused to so much turmoil.” 

“ If you’re sick you had better get to your own room, then. 
If I let you stay to plot mischief with the women you’ll be 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 221 


sure to outwit me, aud Kirke will hold me and my comrade 
responsible for what happens here.” 

“ Nothing can happen without your knowledge, my good 
fellow. You have searched my house and found no one con- 
cealed there ; I have the pledge of your commander that we 
shall be unmolested for a season, and I will make it worth 
your while to be courteous to my family. My sister and my 
ward must have permission to pass about the house as usual; 
I cannot consent that they shall be mewed up in one room.” 

“ As to your consent, it don’t signify much ; but, if you’re 
liberal, I don’t mind lettin’ the women out o’ their cage ; 
but they mustn’t go to communicate with any one outside o’ 
the house.” 

“ I pledge you my word that they will make no such at- 
tempt; they will confine their walks to the garden which 
lies behind the house, and the high wall that surrounds it 
effectually cuts off communication from without. You can 
come and see for yourself.” 

Simpson followed him below, and Sir Hugh led the way 
to a small parterre, in the corner of which was a ruined con- 
servatory, which was now used as a tool-house. Into this 
Ethel must penetrate, and carry back with her a small saw 
which he knew was there. 

After resting an hour in his own room, Sir Hugh again 
purchased of his guard the privilege of ascending to rejoin 
those above ; but the careful sentinel seated himself at the 
top of the staircase and kept a constant watch upon the 
door. 

Sir Hugh found the three together in Ethel’s room, and 
she flew to sustain his tottering steps, while Mrs. Methurn 
placed a chair upon which he sunk with a weary sigh. 

“ I feel as if all this must kill me. I can’t stand much 
more.” 

Yernor quickly said : 


222 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ Don’t talk of dying now, sir ; for if you were to slip off, 
the government would seize your estate, attaint my name as 
a traitor, and leave me nothing to live on. You must try 
and weather the storm for my sake.” 

“ Yes, lad, I’ll make the effort,” he vaguely replied ; 
“ hut I feel very strangely. All the blood in my body seems 
to be gathering in my brain and around. my heart. Just 
now I went blind, and I begin to fear that 1 may fall down 
in a fit as my father did before me.” 

Mrs. Methurn anxiously regarded him. She insisted on 
bathing his head with cold water, to which he reluctantly 
submitted, for Sir Hugh had an aversion to being what he 
called coddled. He presently said that he felt better, and 
with more animation spoke to Ethel. 

“ You must be our stand-by, Lady-Bird. I have obtained 
permission for you to walk in the garden, and you must 
contrive to conceal the saw that is in the tool-house, under 
your dress.” 

“ I can do better than that, sir. The windows of aunt’s 
room look out on the garden, and she can let down a string, 
to which I will fasten the saw. We can bring food up for 
Yernor in the same way without being suspected.” 

“ Eh ! my dear, you have a shrewd head of your own, if 
it is a young one. That is a good idea — and I am sure we 
can trust Mrs. Tarpley with the secret of Vernor’s presence 
here. She can supply you with food without any of the ser- 
vants being privy to it. Both the troopers have walked 
around the garden and satisfied themselves that there are no 
means of escape from it, so they will scarcely think it is 
necessary to watch you. You will have sense enough to 
outwit them, even if they should.” 

Ethel smiled brightly as she tied on her hat, and threw a 
light mantle over her shoulders, which fell almost to her 
feet, while Mrs. Methurn sought for a cord sufficiently 
strong to sustain the weight of a basket. 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 


223 


As the young girl passed the sentinel, she cheerfully 
said : 

e< I promenade thrice every day in this garden. I sup- 
pose I may take my usual walk without interruption.” 

The man glanced at the sweet, young face, and respect- 
fully lifting his hat, replied : 

“ In course, Miss. We aint sich monsters as to let sich 
roses as yours die out o’ your pretty cheeks for lack o’ exer- 
cise. Fve been out with the old gent, and as you couldn’t 
climb over the high wall, ef you was to try, I’m agreeable 
to your taking a walk in the sunshine.” 

She thanked him, and tripped down the staircase. The 
soldier in the lower hall also touched his hat as she 
passed, but he followed her to the garden door, and watched 
her a few moments as she flitted to and fro in the shaded 
walks. 

She gathered flowers, attempted to imprison a humming- 
bird that fluttered above them, and completely disarmed his 
suspicions by her childish frolics. Jones went away again, 
and she made a rapid sign to Mrs. Methurn, who stood at 
the open window above. 

To gain the conservatory, turn over the tool-box, and 
snatch up the saw, was the work of a moment. Again she 
was out, flitting to and fro, but gradually drawing nearer to 
a clump of thick shrubbery that grew beneath Mrs. Meth- 
urn’s window. The end of the string lay upon the ground, 
and with nimble fingers it was attached to the handle of the 
saw. In another moment she was in the open walk, flitting 
to and fro, and not a moment too soon, for she saw that 
Jones had again appeared at the door to see how she was 
occupied. 

Apparently satisfied that she was planning no mischief, 
he retired, and Ethel sprang toward the housekeeper’s room, 
entering it through a door which opened on the garden. 


224 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


The old woman was looking very doleful, and at the appear- 
ance of her young lady, she exclaimed : 

“How did you ever get here, Miss Ethel. I thought 
them wretches had sliet you and Mrs. Methurn up in yer 
own rooms, and meant to keep you there. The more shame 
to them, to treat ladies in such a way.” 

“ Oh, they let me pass out without question ; but I have 
something to say to you, Mrs. Tarpley, that is very impor- 
tant. You must not cry out, or do anything to betray what 
I am going to tell you.” 

“ You may depend on me, child ; I ain’t agoin’ to do 
anything to bring s’picion on you, nor any o’ the rest o’ the 
family.” 

“ Thank you ; I know that you are faithful, and can be 
trusted with a secret ; it is one of life and death, Mrs. 
Tarpley, but we are forced to call on you for help.” 

The housekeeper looked greatly alarmed. 

“ 0, Lor’ ! what is the child a drivin’ at? Don’t tell me 
nothin’ these troopers may want to know, Miss Ethel ; caze 
they may torter me, or hang me to find it out. They’ve 
done as bad things afore now.” 

“ Yes, I know that, and I won’t compromise you in any 
way ; but this you must promise me. Every day place a 
basket of provisions in the bushes under the window of the 
buttery. Luckily it opens on the garden ; and I can man- 
age the rest.” 

The listener gazed on her with open mouth, and the 
color retreated from her rosy face, as she said : 

“ They weren’t wrong then ; the youbg master is here, 
sure enough, though they didn’t find him. Oh, Lor’ ! they 
shall tear the heart out o’ my body before they find that 
out from me. I’ll be sure to fix the vittles, and — and — oh ! 
Miss Ethel, this is dreadful ! an’ we’ve come to a fine pass 
that we has to be spied on by a pair o’ rapscallions like 
them yonder.” 


THE SENTINELS OUTWITTED. 


225 


The tears rolled over the speaker’s face in a torrent, and 
hurriedly pressing her hand, Ethel said : 

“Be polite to them, and give them the best you have. 
I must run back now, but be sure to put the basket under 
the window where I can get it when I come out to walk.” 

“ Yes — yes — I’ll do my best, an’ nobody shall suspect 
what is goin’ on. Oh, Lor’ ! oh, Lor’ ! we’ve fallen on the 
evil times the parson preaches, sure.” 

Pressing her finger on her lip, Ethel was gone again, and 
in a short time she came into the hall, looking as fresh and 
innocent as the roses she carried in her hands. She nodded 
and smiled at the rough trooper as she passed him, and his 
weather-beaten face softened a little as he watched her light 
figure disappear through the door of Mrs. Methurn’s room. 
He shook his head and muttered : 

“That’s a young thing to be ’rested for treason. I 
wonder what Jeffreys will do wi’ a young slip o’ a gal like 
that ? Send her to the colonies maybe, or put her in 
prison here, till he gets all that’s left o’ her fortin. They 
say she had a nice one when that young chap married her 
to get it ; but I s’pect he’s made ducks and drakes of it 
afore now. Ef she’s got ’nuflf left to pay well, maybe 
they’ll let her off easy.” 

When Ethel entered the chamber she found no one there, 
and passing to the other apartments, she saw that Vernor 
was already hard at work sawing out the back part of the 
wardrobe, while his father and aunt looked on. In a short 
time an opening was made sufficiently large to permit him 
to pass easily through it, and the room was restored to its 
usual appearance. 

Yernor exultingly said: 

“Now I can defy them to find me. I have provided a 
retreat they will never think of, and I can stay among you 
14 


226 


THE GIPSY'S WARNING. 


unsuspected, while this cursed surveillance lasts. I should 
have died of the horrors in that dark den below.” 

“ Yes, this is better,” replied Sir Hugh, “ and I can see 
you every day while you stay ; for you must fly to Holland 
with the earliest opportunity. Oh ! my son, I feel as if we 
are spending our last hours on earth together. You will be 
expatriated, and God alone knows what will become of us.” 

“ Don’t look on the future so gloomily, sir. We shall 
weather the storm yet; money will be extorted from you 
by the rapacious agents sent hither by the king, but you 
can save enough to live on in comfort in a foreign land. 
When I am safe beyond^seas, you can join me with my 
aunt and Ethel. She has houses and land in Holland, and 
we can live there much cheaper than in England.” 

Sir Hugh shook his head gloomily. 

“ I shall never live to leave my native land ; and but for 
your sake, I should scarcely wish to do so. I cannot speak 
their foreign lingo, and after all, England is the only coun- 
try in the world that is fit to live in.” 

Yernor lightly said: 

“I have not found living here half as pleasant as the free 
social life of the Continent. I have many friends there, 
and you would find exiles enough from this country to give 
you a larger circle of society than you mingle in here.” 

“ Exiles , yes — men with one idea, and that is to get back 
home again. No — no, Yernor, I should very soon die 
there ; but if I can only live long enough to secure to you 
the inheritance of your fathers, I shall be contented. I am 
a broken down old ruin, and all that is now left to me to do 
is to set my house in order, and get ready to leave a world 
in which, I am afraid, I have not done much good. I trust 
that the sins of the father may not be heavily visited upon 
the son, for all the pride of my life is centred in you, 
Yernor.” 


A FOUL PLOT. 


At that moment he thought of the elder son, with a 
twinge of remorse, but he sought to banish the image that 
arose before him, and seeing how deeply depressed he was, 
his companions used their utmost efforts to soothe and 
arouse him from the gloomy state of depression into which 
he was falling. 

Dar]c care sat on the heart of each one, but they 
repressed its expression, and assumed an appearance of 
cheerfulness as they talked over their future plans, and 
devised schemes of escaping from the perils that environed 
them. 

At length Sir Hugh, overcome by the exertions of the 
morning, slumbered in the chair into which he had thrown 
himself, and the ladies, with Yernor, passed into the next 
apartment. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A FOUL PLOT. 

While these scenes were passing at the Priory, one in 
which the safety of the family was deeply involved, was 
enacted in the Gipsy’s haunt, as the woodland was called in 
which they had so often erected their camp. 

Minchen — grown older, fiercer, more haggard — sat under 
the shadow of a tree, scanning with eager eyes a greasy 
pack of cards, which were laid in rows upon her lap. A 
gloomy, dark-browed man stood near her, watching her 
movements with a half contemptuous curl of his lips. 

“What is the use of such mummery?” he asked. 
“ The bird is safely caged, and all I have to do is to walk 
up to the old house, and tell Kirke where he is hidden. 


228 


THE GIPSt’S WARNING. 


He and his lambs are there by this time, but if you have 
spoken the truth they will never know where to find my 
precious brother. If I knew where that chamber is, I 
would hie to the spot, and deliver him up at once. I have 
waited long for vengeance for the blows he gave me, but 
that would pay for all.” 

The woman looked keenly up, and an expression gf con- 
tempt swept over her face : 

“ And for such pitiful vengeance you would give up your 
just inheritance? You are the elder; Sir Hugh is com- 
pletely in my power, and if he would save Vernor’s life, he 
must comply with the terms I shall dictate to him. If 
the baronet refuses to bestow his lands on you, I will give 
the young one up to Kirke. The estate is not entailed ; he 
can transfer it to you ; and the time may come when I shall 
live with you as mistress of the house which he falsely 
pledged himself should be mine. Will not this be better 
than betraying the boy to those who are in pursuit of 
him ? ” 

“ Aye — if you can succeed ; but you have so long deluded 
me with promises, that I begin to lose faith in your power 
to fulfill them. We have for years dogged the footsteps of 
this galliard ; have seen him living like a nobleman on the 
money he fraudulently gained by his marriage with that 
child ; and many times I could have struck at him with fatal 
effect, but you always interposed — always promised some- 
thing grand in the future as the reward of my forbearance. 
Now you would let him escape, to secure the worn-out lands, 
and the grim old house, that looks as if it might tumble 
about one’s ears.” 

“Ungrateful wretch! have I not always labored for your 
advantage ? Have not these,” pointing to the cards, “ told 
me that your fate is linked with his, and if things were not 
warily managed you must perish with him? Had you 


A FOUL PLOT. 


229 


struck before, such would inevitably have been your doom ; 
but now you can act with impunity. Vernor shall not 
escape. I shall lead Sir Hugh to believe that he can pur- 
chase his safety at the price exacted ; but will it not be easy 
to betray him after the transfer I spoke of is completed? I 
give you leave to do so. Open a communication with Kirke, 
and let him know that you can deliver the young man to 
him ; but he must give me time to carry out my own plans.” 

“ How long do you require ? ” gloomily asked Melchoir. 
“ Every hour of freedom from the doom that hangs over him 
is a torture to me. We may be of kindred blood, but mine 
is turned to gall against him. Before he gave me those 
blows my mind was torpid, and even you thought me stu- 
pid ; but that outrage gave an impetus to my nature that 
changed me. How, I possess craft, guile equal to his own, 
and all my powers shall be dedicated to accomplish his ruin ; 
to bring him to the traitor’s doom. Why should he be 
spared when his leader will be slain ? His blood will not 
lie at my door, even if I do betray him to his pursuers; 
those who shed it will be accountable for it.” 

The woman earnestly regarded him ; but as she unclosed 
her lips to speak the trampling of hoofs was heard, and she 
quickly said : 

u Hark ! the troopers are returning from their fool’s 
errand. We must get out of their track, for we are not yet 
ready to face them. Make a circuit around the woods, and 
await me at the broken door that leads into the vaults 
beneath the Priory. I will meet you there in an hour.” 

Acquainted with every pathway thorough the domain, it 
was easy for these children of the forest to evade the dra- 
goons, though they made a pretty thorough reconnoissance 
before returning to the village. 

At the end of the appointed time, Minchen joined her son 
at the place of rendezvous. The sentinels had been with- 


230 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


drawn, and everything was quiet. They entered the dark 
subterranean, and Melchoir lighted a lantern which he car- 
ried by striking a flint over a piece of tinder. 

Silently they flitted toward the Secret Chamber, believing 
that they should find their prey there. Minchen had obtain- 
ed glimpses of the dragoons, and she saw that they had no 
prisoners with them. Sir Hugh was then left at home, and 
she would meet with no delay in carrying out her plans. 

She had never before betrayed the entrance to the cham- 
ber to any one ; but now the assistance of her son was nec- 
essary to secure their captive, and she led him forward with 
the confident belief that their united strength would be more 
than a match for that of Vernor. 

As Sir Hugh and his son entered the upper apartments, 
Minchen sprung back the door that opened into the lower 
vault and silently entered it, followed by her companion. 
She whispered : 

“ He must be above. I will ascend first and he will sup- 
pose that I have been sent by his father. While I speak 
with him, you can stealthily advance behind me, and spring 
upon him when he is unprepared for an attack. Your 
strength is more than a match for his, and if he attempts to 
use his firearms, I will give him a thrust with my dagger 
that will soon end all his cares.” 

Melchoir nodded and pointed impatiently upward ; and 
his mother moved lightly up the steps. The trap door was 
bolted, and she muttered: 

“ This is strange — yet he must be there.” 

A vigorous push sent it back, and she raised the lantern 
and surveyed the desolate room. All was empty, and with 
a cry of disappointment she sprang toward the bed and 
threw back the curtains. 

There was no evidence of him they came to seek, and the 
two regarded each other with an expression of blank disap- 
pointment. After a pause, Minchen said : 


A FOUL PLOT. 


231 


“ He must have been here, for nowhere else could he have 
been securely concealed from those who have sought him. 
We tracked him to the house last night. I saw him spring 
into his father’s room myself. He has only been in the lower 
vault ; let us go below and examine.” 

They descended the stairs and flashed the light in every 
direction. Melchoir snatched up a fragment of paper on 
which some lines were written. It proved to be a part of a 
torn letter on which the name of Yernor Methurn yet 
remained ; the date was also there, and he saw that it had 
been received within the last two months. This was suffi- 
cient proof that Yernor had been concealed there, and he 
asked : 

“ What are we to do now ? There is no resource but to 
call the soldiers to our assistance.” 

u By no means ; that is our last card. I know every nook 
in this house. I am familiar with every secret winding in it, 
and I can walk to the room in which our prey is now con- 
cealed. He only remained here while the search went on, 
and he has gone up by a secret staircase to the garrets of 
the old house, which communicate with the apartments once 
occupied by Lady Methurn. Ha ! ha! Sir Hugh thinks he 
can keep him there in safety and comfort, leaving this place 
as a retreat in case of danger. And so he could, if I hadn’t 
been on his track. He thinks we’re safe on the other side 
of the channel, contented to vegetate on the trifling pension 
he pays us to keep out of his way. He’ll soon see whether 
he has bought us off or not.” 

“ What shall we next do ? ” asked her son. il Can we get 
into the house from here ? ” 

u Nothing is easier. Follow me, and be as silent as death, 
for we must be wary in our approaches upon the enemy.” 

The door was replaced, and the young man lifted the 
lantern and carefully surveyed the localities. He counted 


232 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the steps to the first turning, and noted in which direction 
they moved, for he felt the assurance that the knowledge of 
this concealed retreat would yet be important to him. 

They passed without hindrance into the chapel, and the 
Gipsy walked directly towards the panel through which the 
fugitive had so recently passed. Again impressing on 
Melchoir the necessity of extreme caution, she ascended the 
crazy staircase first ; Melchoir followed her closely, and with 
stealthy steps they crossed the long garret and approached 
the open door over which the tapestry now fell. 

The sound of voices within distinctly reached them, and 
the young Gipsy clenched his hands, and set his teeth 
savagely as that of Yernor was distinguished by him. 

He had spoken truty of himself. His mind had out- 
grown the effects of the blow given him in childhood, but 
the intellect only had improved ; the moral nature was still 
a barren waste, and for years but one burning desire had 
reigned paramonnt in his soul: to crush the brother who 
had superseded him, and to avenge the indignity he had 
put upon him. 

In pursuance of their own plans, his mother and himself 
had separated themselves from their tribe, and through all 
Yernor’s wanderings they had ever kept him in sight. 
They were aware that he had embarked with Monmouth, 
and they lost no time in following him to England, ready to 
avail themselves of any disaster that menaced him with 
ruin. 

Fate itself seemed to have played into their hands. When 
the disastrous battle of Sedgemoor was fought, the two were 
at Bridgewater, and they lost no time in seeking the neigh- 
borhood of the Priory ; there a constant and wary watch was 
kept upon the house, which was finally rewarded by seeing 
the hunted fugitive enter it. 

The two now r stood silently and listened to the conversa- 


A FOUL PLOT. 


238 


tion within the dressing-room. They heard Vernor’s 
proposal to secure the means of retreating, and heard the 
party retire to the farther apartments. Then the Gipsy 
spoke to her son in a whisper : 

“We will now return to the chapel, and I will tell you 
what next is to he done.” 

As stealthily as they had approached, the two regained 
the head of the stairs, and carefully descended. Melchoir 
asked in a surly tone : 

“Why didn’t we come on them when we were there? 
The women could have done nothing, and the old man 
hasn’t the strength to help him. I could have made him 
my prisoner in a trice.” 

“You’re a blind idiot, Melchoir, and have no finesse 
about you. If you will only be guided by me, I will make 
you your father’s heir, as I before told you. Hie thee to 
the village ; see Kirke yourself, and bring him with a 
party of his soldiers to the foot of the staircase that leads 
into the chapel. Watch there till your prey descends, for I 
will make him believe that he can only be safe in the Secret 
Chamber. I go up now to secure your inheritance.” 

Melchoir’s face cleared, and he said : 

“ I see through your plan now. It is good, and I will 
follow it up. But how am I to get through those dark 
vaults without the lantern ? ” 

“ Take it and speed upon your way ; 1 know mine well, 
and there will be light enough through the chinks of the 
old roof to guide me back.” 

Melchoir silently obeyed, and afraid to shut down the 
stone as he descended, lest he should fail to open it again, 
he left it lifted. Minchen hesitated a moment as to the 
expediency of closing the panel, but she reflected that the 
soldiers left in charge of the house would not be likely to 
penetrate into the chapel again that day, and she feared that 


234 


THE GIPSY S WARNING. 


she might find it difficult to reopen it without a light, so the 
gap remained unclosed, and she again threaded her way 
through the dim obscurity above to a point from which a 
low grating sound now reached her quick ears. 

Yernor was already at work upon the wardrobe, and she 
crouched down till he had completed his labors. She heard 
the heavj' piece of furniture again replaced, and then draw- 
ing near the door, she took a knife from her pocket and cut 
open the tapestry. Thrusting her head through the 
opening she had thus made, she listened to the conversation 
that ensued, and patiently waited till the baronet was left 
alone. 

Yernor closed the door behind him as he left the room, 
that the sound of their voices might not disturb his father’s 
repose ; and they were no sooner gone, than the Gipsy 
crawled through the aperture into the body of the wardrobe. 
She pushed the door, and found that it had been left unfas- 
tened ; and after pausing a few moments, she cautiously 
unclosed it, and stepped into the room. 

Sir Hugh sat in a cushioned chair, with his head thrown 
back, breathing heavily, and she noted that the hand which 
hung down over the arm of the chair looked lifeless and 
pallid. 

As a measure of precaution, Yernor had removed the key 
from the lock, and placed it on the inner side of the door, 
that he might fasten out intruders from the other side, if 
danger approached, and secure time for a retreat. The 
Gipsy softly turned it, and then drew near the sleeping 
baronet. A smile of bitter irony and contempt swept over 
her features as she regarded him, and disturbed perhaps by 
the magnetic intensity of her gaze, he muttered a few words, 
and then started forward with staring eyes and panting 
breath. His lips unclosed, and an oath was starting from 
them., when her hand was placed over his mouth, and she 
rapidly whispered : 


A FOUL PLOT. 


235 


“ If you speak aloud, your son is lost. I have come to 
save him.” 

He stared at her in dull surprise, and faintly said : 

“Where did you come from? I thought you were in 
Spain, with your own people.” 

“ I have lately been in Flanders ; but when the scent of 
carnage is in the air, birds of ill omen are sure to follow it 
up. I am one of them ; I tracked your son to this place; 
I saw him enter your room last night, and I have come to 
state to you the only terms on which I will spare him. He 
is utterly in my power, and I will be ruthless in its exercise 
if you do not comply with my demands.” 

Sir Hugh looked at her set face, into her flaming eyes, 
and he felt that she spoke the truth ; there was no mercy in 
that wild heart toward him or his. He faltered : 

“What do you wish? What must I do to save my son 
from destruction? Oh, Minchen, have you no mercy?” 

“ Mercy ! ha, ha ! Hatfe you ever shown it, Hugh 
Methurn ? Can you sit in this room and ask it of man or 
demon?- Remember what you and I did in this place; in 
this hour I avenge on you your share in that crime. Who 
will avenge mine upon myself remains to be seen. I came 
hither with a purpose that is fixed — implacable. Do justice 
to my son, or yours shall be delivered over to those who seek 
his life. Do you hear ? — his life ! for it is forfeited to the 
laws.” 

“ I have already given you money ; what more can I do? 
You have had the means of living from me for many years 
past. What do you mean by justice to your son? I have 
never ignored his claims on me.” 

“ You have been very liberal, Sir Hugh. You have paid 
over to us a paltry annuity that barely kept us above 
want, while the heir revelled in splendor. My son is the 
eldest born, and to him the estate of his ancestors shall 


236 THE gipsy’s warning. 

descend. Here is a deed I have executed — it has the sig- 
natures of two witnesses affixed to it, and your own name 
above them is all that is needed to render it valid. It’s of 
no consequence whether they see it written or not ; they 
will swear that they were present at the signature when the 
time comes to use it. Sign away the birthright of Arabella 
Vernor’s son, or see him given over to the executioner.” 

Sir Hugh sank back perfectly unnerved. His eyes 
glanced upon the parchment he held before him, and he saw 
that it was a conveyance of his whole estate to Melchoir, 
to be held in perpetuity by him and his descendants. 

“ Ho ! ho ! Sir Hugh, have I circumvented you at last ? 
In my bright youth you promised that I should be mistress 
of Methurn ; you perjured yourself and took my rival to 
your home ; but I shall yet reign as lady of the Priory, and 
my son, our son, shall rule in its walls, while the child of 
her who rivalled me wanders in poverty, an outcast from 
his native land. I am merry to-day, for at last I have 
snared you in the net I have been years in weaving — ho ! 
ho!” 

Sir Hugh stared at her invague dread. His mind seem- 
ed to wander from him, and he caught but imperfect and 
fitful glances of her meaning. He spoke, in a dull tone : 

“ What do you ask me to do for Melchoir ? He has 
never lived with me, and he does not like me. He has no 
right to supersede Vernor; I spent his mother’s fortune, 
and the little I have left should be his to repay him for my 
prodigality.” 

“ Of what use will your estate be to him if the hangman 
gets him ? I will turn him over to him without remorse if 
you dare refuse me.” 

“ But this will be forgery ; the deed will be pronounced 
worthless, and you will be punished for attempting such a 
fraud.” 


THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH. 


287 


" I will risk it. I have friends who will stand by me. I 
know* w’hat I am about. Sign the deed, or I call on those 
left here to guard j 7 ou to arrest your son.” 

u How can I do so? there is neither pen nor ink in this 
room.” 

“ I have provided against that contingency ; see ; ” — and 
and she drew from her pocket a case which held a vial of 
ink and a pen. The chair on which Sir Hugh sat had a 
movable stand attached to one of the arms, and this the 
Gipsy turned in front of him, spread out the deed, and 
placed the pen in his half-palsied fingers. 

He deprecatingly regarded her, and asked in a pitiful 
tone : 

“ Is there no alternative ? Must I ruin my poor boy to 
save his life ? ” 

“ You must. Write your name on the space left for it 
upon this parchment, and I forbear to betray him ; nay, I 
will even help him to escape the perils that surround him. 
After all, j 7 ou are only giving to your eldest son the inherit- 
ance of which the law unjustly deprives him.” 

Sir Hugh grasped the pen in his trembling fingers, and 
was about to trace his name on the spot indicated, when a 
cry came from the next apartment, and an attempt was 
made to open the door which we have seen had been locked 
by the Gipsy. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH. 

To account for w'hat now occurred, we must return to the 
trooper who had been left on guard below. Jones was a per- 


238 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


son of inquisitive mind, and it occurred to him that while 
his comrade kept watch over the movements of the family 
above stairs, he would make a foray through the older por- 
tion of the building. 

The key still remained in the door which gave into the 
corridor, and he traversed its length and entered the chapel. 
His quick eye soon caught sight of the lifted flag stone, and 
while examining it, the open panel also attracted his atten- 
tion. He exclaimed : 

“ By Jove ! the secret’s out ! That chap was hid in the 
garret, and he’s somewhere about here, that’s certain. The 
way’s been opened for him to get out, and may be I can 
trap him before he gets away.” 

He rushed back to the inhabited portion of the house, 
called to his comrade, and in a few words informed him of 
the discovery he had made, at the same time telling him to 
remain in front of Mrs. Methurn’s room, and in five min- 
utes, to enter it, while he made his way to the opposite side, 
for he was certain that a communication existed between the 
chapel and that suite of apartments. 

Jones ran back, swiftly mounted the stairs, and moved in 
the direction in which he knew the rooms were situated. 
The sound of voices soon guided him, and he crashed 
through the wardrobe at the momeut that the cries from the 
next room warned him that a scuffle was going on. 

The Gipsy turned like a lioness at bay, while Sir Hugh 
fell back, dropping the pen from his hand, as he gaspingly 
said : 

“ Lost ! lost ! All is lost ! ” 

They were the last articulate words he ever uttered, for 
the shock had snapped the silver cord, and the hard and sin- 
ful soul of the baronet was wrenched from his body in that 
moment of supreme anguish. 

Jones strode to the door, unlocked and threw it open. 


THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH. 


289 


Vernor was struggling desperately with his assailant, who 
had come upon him without warning, while Mrs. Methurn 
and Ethel, paralyzed by fright, looked on without even 
uttering a cry. 

The new-comer grasped the arms of the young man from 
behind, and in a few moments he was securely bound and 
placed on a chair. 

“Who locked that door?” asked Vernor, savagely. 
“ But for that I might have escaped you both. What have 
you done with my father?” 

“ I believe he’s fainted. Now we’ve got you safe, I’ll look 
after the old gentleman. Don’t be scared, ladies ; we ain’t 
a goin’ to hurt you, though you did try to hide this young 
chap amongst ye.” 

Mrs. Methurn rushed into the dressing-room, followed by 
Ethel, and the young girl uttered a loud cry as she beheld 
Sir Hugh with fallen jaw and glazing eyes, sitting bolt up- 
right, with his hands still stretched out over the little 
table. 

The Gipsy and the deed had both disappeared. 

“ This last shock has proved fatal to him,” said Mrs. 
Methurn, with emotion. 

“ Oh ! he cannot be dead, aunty. We must try to bring 
him around again. Let us get him on the bed, and see 
what can be done for him.” 

Mrs. Methurn silently shook her head. She had gazed 
on death before, and she knew that the awful fixedness of 
look before her was the work of the grim conqueror alone. 
She placed her hand over the heart of Sir Hugh and found 
that not the slightest pulsation remained. His hands were 
already chilled and stiff, and she reverently said : 

“ God has mercifully removed him from trouble to come. 
Go to your own room, my child, for this sight is too painful 
for one of your tender years. I will attend to what must be 
done here.” 


240 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


But Ethel would uot consent to leave her ; by this time 
the two soldiers had entered the room, and in compliance 
with the request of Mrs. Methurn they lifted the corpse and 
placed it on a couch that stood in the room ; they straight- 
ened the limbs, and Mrs. Methurn herself closed the mouth 
and pressed down the eyelids over the staring eyes from 
which all expression had fled. Vernor called out impa- 
tiently : 

“ What are you all doing in there ? Sir Hugh — father, 
come out ; I wish to speak with you. I suppose that privi- 
lege at least will not be denied me.” 

Ethel went to him, pale and trembling. 

“ Oh, Vernor — poor Vernor, this is a sad blow for you. 
He will never come to you again. Oh, no — never.” 

u What do you mean ? ” he asked, with a scared look. 
“ Don’t tell me that anything has happened to my father 
just now. Has that fellow murdered him ? ” 

“ He is dead, but not by violence.” 

Vernor covered his face with his hands, and she could see 
that he trembled in every fibre of his frame. Presently he 
looked up and hoarsely said : 

“ Then it’s all up with me. A prisoner to those who 
know no mercy, and my father gone, there is no one to stand 
between me and destruction. I have ruined you too, Ethel ; 
the remnant of property left to you will barely purchase 
your own safety.” 

“ Don’t talk of that now, Vernor,” she gently replied ; “ I 
will stand by you to the last, and save you if I can.” 

Vernor was touched ; he gloomily said : 

“ I have been a villain toward you, Ethel, and that is the 
truth. I bound you to me that I might gain possession of 
your fortune, which I have recklessly squandered. Yes — it 
is nearly all gone, poor little girl, and you will be left to pov- 
erty. The estate I should have heired will now be forfeited, 


THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH. 241 

and I shall have no means of restitution left. But you will 
be free again, Ethel, for my life isn’t worth a rush.” 

For the first time for years Ethel voluntarily drew near 
him and kissed his pale brow. In that moment all his in- 
difference to her was forgotten : he suffered — he had few 
friends to stand by him in the hour of his need, and her 
young heart overflowed with compassionate tenderness to- 
ward him. She put back his tangled hair and softly said : 

“If the sacrifice of all I claim can save you, Vernor, I will 
cheerfully make it. Let us not anticipate evil ; there is 
enough already around us to task all our energies to over- 
come. Don’t give up, dear Vernor. Hope on ; God is with 
us, and He will send us help in the darkest hour.” 

He bitterly said: 

“ You may trust in Him, for you are good and pure ; but 
I — I dare not ask His protection, for in my hour of elation 
I spurned the thought that I should ever need it.” 

Ethel wistfully regarded him. She knew that he had been 
a habitual scoffer at religion, and this, as much as anything 
else, had alienated her from him. In the depths of her 
gentle nature was cradled deep reverence for sacred things, 
and the prayers offered by this simple heart might have been 
borne by angels to the throne of grace as an incense worthy 
of the infinite purity that overshadows it. 

Mrs. Methurn came in silently weeping. She placed her 
hand on Vernor’s head and reverently said : 

“The Lord has dealt with his creature. Sir Hugh has 
escaped the evils we must rouse our courage to face.” 

“ Oh, Aunt Agnes, if he could only have lived a few weeks 
longer, he might have been able to avert utter ruin from us 
all ; but now, everything is lost. Make up your minds to go 
with me to prison, for Kirke will come back and take us all 
away with him.” 

“ If it must be so, I can go. I will write to Gerald of 

15 


242 THE gipsy’s warning. 

the strait we are in, and he and Mr. Clyde may be able to 
help us.” 

“If justice reigned in the land, perhaps they might, 
but I have no hope from that. Resign yourself to the 
worst, for Kirke arrests us, and Jeffreys will sit in judgment 
upon us.” 

Mrs. Methurn shuddered. The reputation of Jeffreys 
was well known to her, and the thought of even appearing 
before him filled her with horror. 

The troopers here joined them, and rough as they were, 
they refrained from saying anything to the unhappy young 
man to embitter his captivity. Even they had some respect 
for the lifeless form of him who was so lately the stay and 
protection of those before them. Vernor haughtily regarded 
them as he said : 

“ I may at least be permitted to go in and look upon my 
dead father for the last time. Free my feet that I may 
walk.” 

“If you’ll promise not to make a dash, young man, an* 
try to get off, I’ll do that service,” said Jones. 

“ Stupid ! what can I do with my hands thus pinioned ? 
Are not two of you here to guard a bound man ? ” 

The trooper grinned — 

“ I don’t mind your callin’ me sich a name, caze I’ve 
proved sharper than you an’ the old gentleman to boot. 
But I ’vise ye to keep a civil tongue in yer head, for the 
Lambs is used to a word and a blow, an’ sometimes the last 
comes afore there’s time to speak the first.” 

Yernor savagely regarded him, but he only pointed to the 
cord that bound his feet and said nothing in reply. Jones 
severed it with his knife, and he stood an instant balancing 
in hi3 mind his chances of escape. 

While Ethel talked with him alone, she had slightly loos- 
ened the handkerchief with which his arms were bound, for 


THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH. 


248 


the tension appeared painful, and a few cautious movements 
had convinced Yernor that he could release them without 
much effort. He said : 

“ Now I am ready ; one of you can keep guard at the door, 
while the other goes with me in the dressing room. I shall 
not be long.” 

The troopers exchanged glances, and Simpson took his 
station close beside the door ; Yernor walked forward, fol- 
lowed by Jones, and his rapid glance took in the condition 
of the room. He asked : 

“ Who guided you to yonder opening ? ” 

“ My own wit, and the carelessness of those that came 
before me. The woman that was in here got away while I 
was securin’ you.” 

“ What woman ?” said Yernor, bewildered. 

“ How should I know ? One of the servants, mayhap, 
what knew the way up.” 

But the prisoner knew better, and like a flash, the remem- 
brance of the strange Gipsy woman came to him. That 
she had some mysterious connection with his father; that 
she knew all the secret places of the house he was aware, 
and his heart grew faint within him as he remembered how 
she had kept upon his track for years past. Could she 
have followed him to England to make his destruction sure ? 
Why she wished evil to him he did not know, but that she 
was his deadly and uncompromising enemy, he felt assured. 

He approached the couch and looked down on the inani- 
mate form that lay upon it, thinking less of his bereavement, 
than of the means of escaping from the toils that* were clos- 
ing around him. 

Jones peered through the opening in the wardrobe, and 
muttered comments on its ingenuity. He found the saw 
and said aloud : 


244 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ The gal got this, hut how she brought it up I don’t know. 
She’s a sharp un, an’ needs looking after a bit.” 

Vernor glared furtively at him ; the door communicating 
with the outer room had swung partly to; Jones was on his 
knees groping in the wardrobe, and seizing the opportunity, 
he slipped the handkerchief from his arms, and at a bound, 
closed the door, turned the lock, and then sprang upon the 
the trooper. As Jones arose, he struck him a heavy blow 
upon the head, dashed through the opening, and was half 
way across the garret before the man regained his stunned 
senses sufficiently to pursue him. 

But Kirke’s lambs were too hard-headed to be long bewil- 
dered even by such a blow as the one just dealt on the troop- 
er’s head, and as Vernor approached the stairway he heard 
his adversary in hot pursuit. Dashing wildly forward, he 
cleared the steps at a bound, landed on the chapel floor, and 
closed the panel. 

As he paused to take breath, a figure emerged from be- 
hind a pillar, which he instantly recognized as that of the 
Gipsy Queen. 

“What has brought you here?” he fiercely asked. 
“ What were you doing in my father’s room to-day ? You 
have dogged my steps for years, and now you have come to 
deliver me over to destruction.” 

“ You speak the truth,” she recklessly replied. “ The 
rope is made that will soon hang you, and I have done my 
best to put it around your neck, though you have bravely 
helped me yourself. The sleuth hound is on your track, 
and you need not hope to escape him. You are rushing 
now upon your fate.” 

“ Who are you? and why have you pursued me thus for 
evil ? ” 

“ The dead man that lies above, can no longer stand be- 
tween us, and since your race is almost run, I will tell you 


THE DEATH OF SIR HUGH. 


245 


what you wish to know. I am she who should have been 
Lady Methurn ; to whom every sacred pledge was given, 
and ruthlessly broken. My son is the son of your father, 
and your own elder brother ; yet you have dared to strike 
him. Go on, Vernor Methurn, and meet the retribution due 
to that cowardly blow. 1 do not attempt to stop you, hasten 
before the trooper breaks through the wall, for he is striking 
at it at a fearful rate.” 

Jones, in truth, was hammering against the panel with all 
his force, and as a crashing sound was heard as if it was 
splintering beneath his blows, Vernor again bounded forward, 
and disappeared through the opening in the floor. He had 
no thought at that moment for the revelation which had just 
been made to him ; his only care was for his own safety. 

The Gipsy again stepped behind the sheltering pillar, 
leaving Jones to force his way into the chapel. She knew 
that the fugitive was in her power, for by this time her son 
must be at his station with the party of which he had gone 
in quest, and since nothing else would be gained by the day’s 
work, Melchoir might at least gain the reward offered for 
his brother’s apprehension. 

The trooper at length smashed the panel, and with the 
impetus of the last blow, rolled out upon the floor. As he 
regained his feet, a confused sound of voices and cries came 
up from the vaults, and before he could gain the stairs lead- 
ing into them, a party of four men, led by Melchoir, came 
up, bringing the fugitive with them as a prisoner. Vernor 
had gone but a few yards below, when they closed around 
him, and pinioned him in such a manner as to render resis- 
tance ineffectual. 


246 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 

When Kirke left the Priory he divided his men into two 
squads, one of which kept watch upon the grounds, while 
the other proceeded to make domiciliary visits to some of the 
neighboring families who had also been implicated in the 
rebellion. 

Melchoir found the pickets patrolling around the domain, 
and he speedily gave the officer in command the information 
that the quarry they sought was safely caged within the old 
house. The three men he requested were sent with him to 
the vaults, while the remainder gradually drew near to the 
walls and enclosed them with a cordon of armed men. 

A messenger was sent to Kirke informing him of the state 
of affairs, and at the moment Vernor was brought in the 
chapel, he dashed up to the door followed by the remainder 
of his troop. Their loud and disorderly entrance filled the 
whole building with clamor, and their commander, with an- 
gry and inflamed visage, stalked through the room of Sir 
Hugh, aud traversed the corridor with furious haste. He 
gained the chapel, and a gleam of ferocious joy lighted up 
his features as he saw the prisoner standing before him 
bound and helpless. 

“Well, young cock o’ the walk, your wings are clipped at 
last,” he said, with a coarse laugh. “You’ve led me a 
pretty dance; you and that deceiving old father of yours. 
Where is he ? Pll make him feel that it is not safe to trifle 
with one of his Majesty’s officers as he has done with me to- 
day.” 

Vernor disdainfully regarded him. 

“ My father, thank Heaven ! is beyond the reach of your 
malice. You nor any one else will annoy him more.” 


THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 247 


“Why, what does the galliard mean? Where is Sir 
Hugh, I say ? Brimg him before me that I may signify my 
pleasure to him in this conjuncture of affairs. I’ll take the 
old sinner where he’ll find cause to repent of his evil deeds.” 

“ You’re spared that trouble, sir,” said Jones. “ The old 
gen’leman’s gone a longer journey than you can take him. 
When I jumped in on the hidin’ place o’ the young un, he 
jest fell back an’ gave up the ghost.” 

“ Head ! ” said Kirke ; “ do you mean that his tough old 
heart actually broke when he learned that his young scape- 
grace was in the toils ? Bless my soul ! I had no idea he 
had so much sensibility.” 

“ He’s dead sure, sir. Mebbe you’ll come up an’ see 
where the youngster was stowed away, an’ you can see for 
yourself that Sir Hugh’ll never breathe again in this world.” 

Giving orders for the prisoner to be removed to the hall 
and securely guarded, Kirke strode after his satellite, and 
mounted to the garret. He carefully suveved his route 
and said : 

“ Cleverly contrived, faith ; and the panel is so well con- 
cealed behind the pillar that no one would have suspected 
its existence. I was certain the young man had taken re- 
fuge here, and I intended to stay in the neighborhood until 
he was nabbed.” 

When they gained the opening into the dressing-room he 
forced his burly form through it, and stepping out, stood be- 
fore the two affrighted ladies, who were kneeling before the 
couch on which the body of Sir Hugh lay. Mrs. Methurn 
extricated herself from Ethel’s clinging arms, and arose with 
dignity, while the poor girl turned her pallid face toward 
him, and pointed appealingly to the lifeless form of the 
baronet. Mrs. Methurn said: 

“ I trust that Colonel Kirke will treat these remains with 
the respect that is due to them.” 


248 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


The rude soldier lifted his hat in the presence of death, 
and replied : 

“ He’s done his last wrong, ma’am, and gone where 
Jeffreys can’t reach him, which I can’t say I’m sorry for. 
Sir Hugh was a liberal man, and I’ll see him put decently 
in the family vault before we go. But I’m sorry to say that 
you and this young lady must go with me to Taunton as 
soon as the job’s completed.” 

“Can we not be permitted to remain here till our presence 
is necessary there ? ” 

“ I had agreed to that ; hut now it is impossible. You 
have helped to conceal that young fellow, thus making mat- 
ters worse for yourselves than they would have been.” 

“Has he escaped?” asked Ethel. “If he has, I can 
hear imprisonment.” 

“If he had escaped through your connivance, it would 
have been the worse for you, young lady. But he is safe in 
the custody of my men. Jones tells me that you must have- 
slipped the bandage with which his arms were bound, or he 
could never have freed them as he did. Since we’ve caught 
him, it don’t matter: but if he had got off it would have 
gone hard with you.” 

“ Oh ! I could have borne anything if he had gained his 
freedom,” she said, with a burst of tears. “ Come, aunty, 
let us prepare to meet the evil fate that has encompassed 
us.” 

“ Yes — get ready to be judged by the hardest man in 
England, or, for that matter, in the world. But don’t be 
down-hearted, for Jeffreys has a taste for beauty, and you 
are rather a pretty little thing. Only don’t spoil your eyes 
with crying ; you’ll find a better use for them in looking 
out for another husband after this one is put out of the 
way.” 

Ethel shrank from the brutal man with an expression of 


THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 249 

horror, and looking as indignant as she felt at such lan- 
guage, Mrs. Methurn drew her away. She paused at the 
door and asked : 

“ How long may we remain beneath this roof, sir ? ” 

“Till my men have had a good dinner provided for them, 
ma’am, and we have had time to knock up a box to put the 
old gentleman in. He was fond of his glass, and I hope 
there will be good wine to be drank at his funeral banquet. 
I rely on your respect for the deceased to order a repast 
suited to his quality, for my Lambs are used to the best the 
country affords.” 

“.They shall have the best we have,” replied the lady; 
“ but you must be aware of the difficulty of obtaining 
sufficient food for a whole troop of horsemen at so short a 
notice. Our family is not large, and it will take time to 
send to the village.” 

“Zounds! madam, kill the fatted calf; kill his mother, 
if necessary ; for I shall not budge from the Priory till I 
have partaken of its hospitality. The Methurns were not 
wont to be niggards, and if their fortunes have fallen, there 
is still enough left to feed his Majesty’s soldiers.” 

Mrs. Methurn did not reply to this rude speech ; she 
merely bent her head and left the room. 

No sooner were they alone than Ethel threw herself 
upon her bosom and wept the tears she had with difficulty 
restrained in the presence of the troopers. But she soon 
aroused herself from this indulgence of feeling, and pro- 
ceeded to pack up such articles of clothing as herself and 
Mrs. Methurn would need during their stay in Taunton. 

What their fate might be she could not foresee, and such 
terrible stories were told of Jeffreys and his summary 
proceedings towards those implicated in the rebellion, that 
she feared the worst, but the latent vein of heroism in her 
nature was fully aroused, and she felt within herself a 


250 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


power to sustain the heaviest blows of misfortune if Yernor 
could only escape the danger that menaced him. 

The death of Sir Hugh had been a great shock, but he 
had never been fond of her, and she had always regarded 
him with more fear than affection. At such a crisis it was 
a great calamity, but she had faith to believe that God 
would bring good out^f evil to those who trusted in His 
power, and with this consoling belief she wiped away her 
tears, and set herself earnestly to the task before her. 

Mrs. Methurn had far more difficulty in the one she had 
undertaken. Messengers were dispatched to the village, 
and to Farmer Conway’s to request that provisions might 
be sent up to the Priory ; but the day was rapidly waning 
away before the banquet was ready for the impatient and 
often clamorous soldiers; for Kirke allowed his men the 
widest liberty when not engaged in actual service. 

A rough coffin was procured for Sir Hugh, and with little 
ceremony he was placed in it, and conveyed to the family 
vault, which was situated in the rear of the chapel. Ver- 
nor and the two ladies were permitted to be present, and 
with fear and trembling the curate of the parish came to 
read the burial service over his body. When he asked 
leave to do so, Kirke replied : 

" It isn’t much good they’ll do such an old reprobate 
now, Mr. Parson ; but as it is customary, I won’t refuse. 
I’m called a brute, and sometimes I act like one, but the 
d — 1 you know isn’t so black as he’s painted. The women 
would feel horrified if the old fellow was put away like a 
dog, and somehow that little girl interests me. The poor 
thing has been made a victim by Sir Hugh and that scamp 
of a son ; they have ruined her, I know, and this affair will 
swallow up the last fragment of her fortune. Somehow I 
pity her, though I don’t often care for those the fortunes of 
war throws in my hands.” 


THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 251 


“ Miss Ethel is a sweet young lady,” replied the curate. 
“ I taught her Latin and the mysteries of calculation, and 
she was always a docile pupil. I do hope you will try and 
befriend her in the evil strait into which she has fallen.” 

“As to that, my power over her fate ceases when I 
deliver her over to the authorities at Taunton. Jeffreys 
will then be the arbiter of her destiny.” 

The dominie shuddered : 

“ Oh, sir ! he is a merciless man, and this is such a young 
girl. I — I’m told, sir, that those he cannot hang he will 
condemn to be sold as slaves in the West Indies. Think 
of it, sir ! such a delicate young lady as this to be sent 
away as a slave to that wild and unhealthy country.” 

Kirke laughed bitterly : 

“ It’s good enough for the most of those who will be sent 
there ; but Viscount Clifton will never let his niece, and the 
heiress to his ’estate, be sent into exile. It would be too 
great a stain upon his noble family.” 

The listener shook his head dubiously : 

“ If it depends on him, he won’t raise his finger to help 
her; for if it had not been for Mrs. Methurn I do not know 
what would have become of the poor child when her mother 
died.” 

“It would have been a great deal better for her if she 
had never seen one of the family, for they have bound her to 
a worthless prodigal in her childhood, and he has made way 
with the earnings of her uncle. When this thing is through 
with, she won’t have a shilling left. I hope Master Vernor 
will get his deserts for his treatment of her.” 

“ Oh, sir ! surely they will not destroy the heir to an 
ancient family like that of the Methurns, which dates back 
to the Norman conquest. They have held an honorable place 
in the land for many generations.” 

“It’s a pity then that they have degenerated so much, for 


252 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the old baronet and his son are poor specimens. If Sir 
Hugh had lived a few months longer, he might have saved 
the estate from forfeiture ; but now it will go to the crown, 
and the heir will hang very likely.” 

The poor dominie regarded him with silent horror. The 
family at the Priory had been his patrons, and from him 
the young people had received the greater portion of their 
education. For Yernor he had less affection than for Ger- 
ald, but he could not think of the fate that threatened him 
without the bitterest regret. 

While performing the last services for the deceased baro- 
net, his voice faltered and his eyes filled with tears many 
times; and in a parting interview with Mrs. Methurn, he 
promised her to look in frequently at the Priory, and see 
how things went on during her enforced absence. She 
made an effort to look hopeful, as she said : 

“I trust that we shall be permitted to return before long. 
If we do not, I hope, Mr. Panton, that you will remember 
the poor people I have been in the habit of looking after.” 

He promised to do so, and asked : 

“Will not Mr. Gerald come to your assistance, ma’am? 
He’s a lawyer, and he will know the rights of the case. It 
seems hard that you and Miss Ethel should be taken away 
from your home for such a trifle.” 

“ I have written to Gerald, and I shall send my letter 
from Taunton.” 

“Will they really put you in prison, ma’am? It’s a 
dreadful place, for I’ve been there to visit a friend. That 
was several years ago ; but the place is no better now — nay, 
it is worse, for a malignant fever is raging among the 
people confined there.” 

Mrs. Methurn shivered : 

“ My poor Ethel ! it will be terrible to take her into the 
midst of infection. I must make every effort to escape 


THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 253 


that danger. Kirke is rough and brutal, but he has the 
reputation of being also very venal. He has power to serve 
us, and a liberal bribe may induce him to permit Ethel and 
myself to remain at Mr. Digby’s till we have to appear in 
court.” 

“ If he does, ma’am, he will be more lenient to you than 
he was to Miss Digby ; for I know that she was arrested 
and thrown in prison. She took the fever, and was taken 
back to her father’s house when they found she could not 
live unless she was removed from the den into which they 
had thrown her. She lies there now at the point of death.” 

“Poor Alice! so young and so unfortunate. Yet my 
own darling may fare no better.” 

She lowered her voice, and went on : 

“ I have been told that Kirke and Jeffreys play into 
each other’s hands, and are cruel, or kind, according to the 
ability of the party arrested to pay for lenient treatment. 
I have a hundred pounds by me, which I have saved since 
Gerald went into Mr. Clyde’s office ; perhaps that ‘will 
purchase permission for us to remain under Mr. Digby’s 
roof. It would be too cruel to throw us in the midst of 
infection.” 

“ Kirke seems to feel for Miss Ethel, ma’am, and I think 
the half of the money will bribe him to let you both remain 
with your friends. But no sum will keep Mr. Yernor out 
of prison ; they are too much afraid that he will escape. 
He has shown such spirit and determination, that they will 
not consent to lose sight of him for an hour.” 

Mrs. Methurn sighed heavily : 

“ I am aware of that, and I have no hope of keeping him 
with us. To save Ethel from contact with such misery ancl 
degradation, is the utmost I expect to accomplish. You 
advise me then to make the trial with Kirke ? ” 

“I think you may venture to do so, ma’am. He can 


254 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


only refuse, and you will be no worse off than you are 

DOW.” 

Thus counselled, Mrs. Methurn sought an opportunity of 
speaking with Kirke, who at first utterly refused to listen to 
such a proposal. He declared that the two ladies must go 
to prison, as many others of as high station had done 
before ; that he had no power to change their destination, 
but when be found that the widow had money of her own 
with which to purchase indemnity, he softened his tone, 
and after many manoeuvres to find out how much she was 
able to give, he finally consented to accept sixty pounds, 
and allow Ethel and her protectress to take refuge in the 
house of Mr. Digby till the day of their trial arrived. 

When Mrs. Methurn ventured to mention Yernor, his 
face darkened, and he abruptly said : 

“ You can do nothing for the young man, madame. He 
must be made to feel all the rigors of imprisonment to 
bring him to the point that is so desired. He is sullen and 
uncompromising, but I have dealt with as hard cases before 
now, and I shall yet make him take the only course that 
can save his own life, and at the same time serve the 
government.” 

u If it is your purpose to tempt him to treachery toward 
those with whom he has been leagued, I trust that he will 
preserve his honor even at the sacrifice of life,” she replied, 
with spirit. 

“ Ho ! ho ! that is fine talking, madam ; but at his 
years life is .very precious, and he will be very likely to 
value it above what you call his honor. Monmouth’s cause 
is lost, and by giving up some documents he has concealed, 
your nephew does not injure those who are already con- 
demned; he will only give a color of justice to their execu- 
tion.” 

- “ If he gives them up, will he be released without the 
formality of a trial ? ” 


THE BROTHERS FACE- TO FACE. 


255 


“By no means; that Jeffreys will never forego. If life 
is spared in return for this service, it will be the utmost 
that will be granted. Heavy punishment will be meted 
out to him, the least of which will be the forfeiture of his 
title and estate. As to what further sentence Jeffreys may 
pronounce upon him, I cannot say. The young man has 
led a sadly profligate life, and the best you and the young 
lady can do, is to take care of yourselves, and let him sink 
or swim as fate may direct.” 

“ But he is my nephew and Ethel’s husband, and we 
cannot be indifferent to his fate.” 

“If your positions were reversed, I fancy he would be 
indifferent enough to yours. I am sufficiently acquainted 
with Mr. Yernor Methurn’s past life to know that he is 
utterly selfish and hard-hearted ; and if the law hangs him 
out of the way of this poor child who has been made the 
victim of his rapacity, it will be the better for her. Excuse 
me, madam ; I am blunt and free-spoken, and I’m not used 
to dealing with ladies. But my advice to you is, to let the 
young man bear the burden of the calamity he has brought 
upon you all.” 

Mrs. Methurn turned away with a sad heart ; she would 
gladly have averted from Vernor the penalty of his late 
acts had she possessed the power to do so, but she was 
helpless to aid him in any way. Vernor was strictly 
guarded in one of the lower rooms, and no opportunity of 
speaking with him had been allowed the two ladies, save 
when they stood beside the bier when the funeral services 
were being performed. He had then briefly said : 

“ Take care of yourself and Ethel, Aunt Agnes. It’s all 
up with me, and I must bear my fate like a man. I have 
brought evil enough upon you without hanging as a mill- 
stone upon you now. Leave me to my own deserts.” 

The house for many hours was a scene of riot and confu- 


256 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


sion, from which Mrs. Methurn was glad to take refuge in 
the seclusion of her own apartments. The late dinner was 
served, for Conway sent up a wagon load of provisions, and 
the people of the village anxious to prove their loyalty, 
furnished everything they thought the troopers would need. 

The wine-cellar was searched, and a sufficient store of 
both wine and ale were found to intoxicate the whole party. 
Few would have believed that the shadow of death rested 
upon that house which rang with bacchanalian songs and 
roystering laughter. The feast was turned into a wild 
revel, and it was late in the night before the troopers stag- 
gered from the table. 

Under these circumstances Kirke postponed his departure 
till the following morning, for among his troops but one 
sober man was to be found. That was Simpson, to whom 
the custody of Vernor was delegated with the assurance 
that if he permitted him to escape his own life should be 
the forfeit. He knew the threat would be fulfilled, and he 
had sufficient forbearance to refrain from indulging himself 
for the present, as he knew that at the next carouse his 
own turn would come ; and the troopers had many houses 
to visit on similar errands before their work was completed. 

He tried to while away the time in conversation with his 
prisoner, but Vernor sat wrapped in gloomy silence, think- 
ing over his ruined fortune and blighted future. What the 
Gipsy had told him recurred to his memory, and in his 
heart he cursed her for her agency in bringing about his 
capture. 

Minchen and her son were still in the house, and Mel- 
choir watched for an opportunity to come into the presence 
of his brother, that he might gratify his deep hatred by 
seeing him bound and helpless before him. 

The drunken troopers had sunk down upon the floor in a 
heavy sleep, and the house was at last quiet, when the 


THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 257 


young Gipsy came stealthily toward the door beside which 
Simpson held his watch. He offered the trooper a tankard 
of ale and a piece of money, and whispered : 

“ Let me pass — let me see my foe in the toils, and I will 
be your friend for life.” 

“ Gad ! you’re the fellow that set the men on the right 
scent, you helped to nab him, and I don’t suppose you’d 
care to help him off.” 

“ I’d throttle him first,” was the fierce response. “ I 
wish to witness his humiliation — to gloat on his sufferings. 
He degraded me once by cowardly blows, but now I think 
we are quits. Let me pass, good fellow, and it shall not be 
the worse for you. When I get my share of the reward foi* 
taking him, I’ll remember you.” 

“ This ale is good ; this money is genuine, and I don’t 
see any objection to grantin’ what you ask. Go in and 
speak your mind to the sullen youngster, who wouldn’t 
answer a civil remark I made to him a while ago.” 

Simpson sat down to enjoy his tankard, and Melchoir 
glided past him, and stood before his detested brother. 

Vernor’s feet were securely bound to a large table, near 
which he was placed, and a leather belt belonging to his 
guard, was strapped around his waist, and buckled to the 
chair on which he sat. Handcuffs were placed upon his 
wrists, and his head was bent down above them, his long 
hair flowing in matted locks over the table. 

He did not heed the entrance of his visitor, and the 
sound of Melchoir’s voice caused him to start and lift up his 
pale face. An expression of triumphant scorn was upon 
the one that confronted him, and the Gipsy tauntingly 
said : 

“Do you remember the day we mot in the woodlawn 
years ago? when you insulted and outraged me by using 
your horsewhip upon my shoulders ? See — here is the scar 
16 


258 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


left by those blows. I shall bear it to my grave, but now 
it burns no longer, for it has been dearly avenged.” 

He laid bare his shoulder as he spoke, and a long red line 
was visible upon the dusky flesh. 

Vernor said : 

“ You are mad ; the blow I gave could have left no such 
mark as that through all these long years.” 

“ Perhaps not ; but I rendered it indelible by burning it 
out with caustic. I wished it to remain as a witness 
between you and me, for I swore to pursue you to the death 
for the indignity you then put upon me ; on me , your 
father’s son— your own elder brother.” 

“ If we are really brothers, it is very strange that you 
have so bitterly resented an outbreak of temper on my part. 
Had I known the tie that exists between us, I should have 
foreborne to strike ; but Sir Hugh never informed me that I 
had such a relative in existence.” 

A sudden hope, wild as unfounded, dawned on Yernor. 
This strange being had probably repented of the part he 
had taken in his capture. He had possibly gained access 
to him to aid him to escape, and he eagerly regarded him 
as he slowly went on : 

“ If I had known you were of my father’s blood I should 
have held my hand. Why did you not tell me then, in 
place of brooding over the injury till it has made your heart 
bitter toward me. The tie of consanguinity is strong, and 
should not be lightly severed. Be a brother to me in this 
strait, and I pledge myself to recognize you as such, and to 
provide for you as my father’s son when I have made terms 
with the government. I have the means of regaining all I 
have lost, if you will only help me to regain my freedom.” 

The face of Melchoir was a curious study while Vernor 
thus spoke ; anger, incredulitj’ and scorn were all blended 
in its expression ; and he savagely said : 


THE BROTHERS FACE TO FACE. 259 


“ If I thought you had such power, I would destroy you 
as you sit hound and helpless before me. Craven ! do you 
dare to appeal to me — to me, to respect the tie that unites 
us, when, if you were free and prosperous, it would be 
scouted with contempt ? It is well for you, a hound captive, 
with the sword suspended by a hair above your head, to 
talk of befriending me, the unfettered son of the forest. I 
am already provided for, thanks to the munificent govern- 
ment which offered a large reward for your capture. I 
pointed out your place of concealment — 1 surrendered you 
to the men who secured you, and for this service I am 
entitled to the sum offered. I scorn your offers of service, 
and refuse to be known as the kinsman of a traitor and 
villain — for such you know yourself to be, Vernor Me- 
thurn.” 

Hope died out of the listener’s heart as he looked upon 
the speaker, and hearkened to his bitter words. His head 
again drooped upon the table, and he feebly said : 

“ Leave me — I wish to be alone. Since my father’s son 
can give me over to destruction, I need hope for mercy from 
no other quarter.” 

“ Ho, expect no mercy — and know that if it were 
extended to you, I would be upon your track again working 
for your ruin.” 

“What benefit could my death be to you ? You could 
never become the heir of Methurn.” 

“Perhaps not; but you shall never fill the position that 
should have been mine. Since I, the eldest born, cannot 
reign in my father’s place, you shall never do so.” 

“ To what end have you sought me?” asked Vernor, in 
an irritated tone. “ Is it only to taunt and annoy me ? ” 

“ I came hither to triumph over you ; to bring home to 
you some of the humiliation you have made me suffer ; to 
gloat upon the sight of your fettered form, and hug to my 


260 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


heart the certainty that you cannot escape the doom that 
hangs over you.” 

“ You have performed your mission. Go now, or I will 
call out and let Kirke know that his orders have been 
infringed by permitting you to enter here.” 

“Call, and welcome; the beastly troopers are too drunk 
to hearken to you ; but 1 have said all I intended, and I bid 
you adieu for the present. I shall witness your condemna- 
tion ; I shall be present at your ignominious execution, and 
then I shall go upon my way, satisfied that retribution has 
fallen where it is due.” 

He waved his hand, and passed from the room. Vernor’s 
lip curled, and his eyes flashed as he muttered : 

“I shall foil you all yet — and you, wretched cur, shall 
feel the weight of my vengeance for the insults of this hour. 
I hate and abhor you as deeply as you can loathe me.” 

His head sunk down, and overcome with weariness he 
slept, in spite of his uncomfortable position. ' 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE PRISONERS. 

On the following morning the whole party was removed 
to Taunton. The two ladies were permitted to occupy the 
carriage with Jones as their guard, and after some discus- 
sion, Vernor was placed beside him, with strict injunctions 
to the trooper to suffer no conversation to take place between 
the prisoners. His aunt and Ethel could only testify their 
sympathy for him by their looks, but he seemed self-absorb- 
ed and indifferent, and Ethel silently wept as the bitter con- 
viction came to her that even in this dire crisis of his fate, her 
compassion, her tenderness was of no consequence to him. 


THE PRISONERS. 


261 


Had Vernor then shown any kindness, or consideration 
for her, her young heart might have been won to love him, 
even in his fallen, and ruined state ; but Vernor was too sel- 
fish to conceal his real feelings, and the last fatal stab was 
given to her affection for him. 

As the vehicle drew near the town, sights of horror caused 
them to veil their eyes. Men hanging in chains were seen 
at intervals, and at the entrance of Taunton were two heads 
blackening in the sun. The place was in a ferment, and the 
carriage was detained by a crowd who were conducting three 
more unfortunate men to the gallows. These men were con- 
demned to death by military authority alone, for the court 
known as the bloody assizes had not yet commenced its 
sitting. 

After many delays, the vehicle drew up in front of the 
gloomy prison, and Mrs. Me th urn’s heart beat with the pain- 
ful fear that after all, Kirke might consign Ethel and her- 
self to its gloomy walls. But Vernor only was removed, 
and the jailer who took charge of him assured Kirke that 
the place was so crowded with wretched humanity that it 
would be difficult to find a place for the new prisoner. He 
said : 

“ They are killed off mighty fast, Colonel, but two come 
in for one that’s taken away. But when the Judges comes, 
they’ll do the work thoroughly, and there won’t be many 
rebels left in these parts when they are through with them.” 

“ You must find a place for this man at all events,” was 
the reply ; “ and see that he is kept safe.” 

“ Oh ! I’ll answer for that ; nobody gets away from me.” 

At the moment of parting, Vernor held out his manacled 
hand to Ethel, and with some show of emotion, said : 

“ Good bye, Ethel ; forgive me if you can, for all I have 
done to make you unhappy. Forget me — for let my fate be 
what it will, the law will sever you from a condemned 


262 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


traitor. I give you back your plighted troth ; I shall now 
never claim you as my wife.” 

Even in that moment of bitter sorrow, there was some 
comfort in this assurance. She said: 

“I trust that you will escape, dear Vernor, and in a for- 
eign land find that happiness which our union could never 
have afforded you.” 

Mrs. Methurn whispered in earnest tones : 

“ Farewell, Yernor, do not be tempted to do anything that 
can tarnish the honor of your name. Remember that 
fidelity to those with whom you have been leagued is imper- 
ative upon you.” 

He boldly, and sternly regarded her, as he slowly said : 

“ I shall be guided by my own interest, Aunt Agnes. 
The phantom called honor must not be permitted to stand 
between me and life. Adieu ! be a mother to Ethel, and 
tell Gerald that I give her up to him. He has loved her 
from her childhood, and I now feel that I should not have 
stepped between them. Make no effort to see me again ; 
this is no place for you or Ethel to visit, even if it would 
be permitted.” 

He dropped her hand, turned away, and was conducted 
beneath the gloomy portal, over which Dante’s inscription 
on the entrance of the Inferno might well have been writ- 
ten : 

" All hope abandon ye who enter here.” 

The carriage was then driven toward Mr. Digby’s resi- 
dence, and after some trifling delay, they reached his door. 

The knocker was muffled, and straw had been thrown in 
the street to deaden the sound of passing vehicles, for the 
sole daughter of the house lay almost in extremity with the 
fever she had contracted during her cruel imprisonment. 

Mrs. Methurn shrank from the thought of taking Ethel 
into the infected mansion, but no other was open to her in 


THE PRISONERS. 


263 


this hour of difficulty and danger. On Mr. Digby’s protec- 
tion and assistance she knew she could rely, and he was the 
only friend to whom she was willing to appeal in her distress. 
She consoled herself for the risk they must encounter, with 
the thought that she could be of service to the sick girl, for 
Alice had neither mother nor- sister to watch beside her 
feverish couch. 

Careless of consequences to the invalid, the trooper who 
guarded them tore aside the muffling from the knocker, and 
struck a resonant peal upon the door, which brought Mr. 
Digby himself to it, looking pale, and excited at the rude 
summons. He was worn down with watching and suffering, 
and he glanced apprehensively toward the soldier, as he 
said : 

“ What brings you hither again ? My daughter is ill 
almost to death, and you surely would not drag her from 
the shelter of my roof to die ? ” 

Without lifting his hat, the’man roughly replied : 

“ I’ve no further concern with your daughter. There are 
two women in that carriage who are brought here by Kirke’s 
command, I fancy you will not care to disobey his orders by 
refusing to receive them.” 

“ Why should any one be sent to this house of death unless 
it is intended to destroy them by placing them in its tainted 
atmosphere.” 

u That’s no concern of mine. They are to stay here till 
Jeffreys is ready to judge them. Besides, they wished to 
come themselves.” 

By this time Mrs. Methurn and her young companion 
had alighted, and ascended the steps. The sad face of Mr. 
Digby brightened up a little as he recognized them, and he 
stepped forward to receive them. 

“ It is but a dreary welcome I can give you, Mrs. Meth- 
urn, and I am afraid it is an evil cause that brings you here 


264 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


at such a time ; but I am glad that I am permitted to offer 
you shelter. It is better than to be thrust in prison, as my 
poor girl was.” 

Mrs. Methurn pressed his hand in tearful silence, while 
the trooper rudely said : 

“ The prison would ha’ been good enough for such as them, 
but Kirke didn’t choose to put ’em in it. Look sharp old 
fellow, that they’re ready to come when called for, or it’ll be 
worse for you. My orders are to leave ’em here, and your 
head’ll be responsible for ’em.” 

a I accept the responsibility. Walk in, ladies ; I will en- 
deavor to render you as comfortable as circumstances will 
permit.” 

As he was closing the door the soldier said : 

“ What’s the street littered up in this way for ? Is the 
life of a rebel so precious that the King’s highway must be 
filled with trash to keep out the noise.” 

The pale father paused, and spoke with pathetic dignity : 

‘‘ The rebel of whom you speak is a young girl ; she is my 
only child, and I would save her life at the hazard of my 
own. She is delirious, and noise would be fatal to her. The 
straw can inconvenience no one that passes, and — and ” 

His voice broke down and the trooper said : 

" I shall report it to my officer, and he will have it 
removed, I am sure. Such tender care for one who boldly 
welcomed Monmouth will not be permitted.” 

In an agony of fear, Mr. Higby drew from his pocket seve- 
ral guineas, and thrust them into the trooper’s hand, as he 
whispered : 

“ Take this and be merciful.” 

The man nodded, laughed, and sprang down the steps. 
His threat had produced the result he anticipated, and he 
hurried at once to a drinking shop to bury himself in a ca- 


rouse. 


THE PRISONERS. 


265 


Mr. Digby paused to replace the muffling upon the 
knocker, and then joined his guests in the hall. He led the 
way to the usual sitting-room of the family, and said: 

“ I am almost alone in the house, Mrs. Methurn. My 
cook remains, but she is afraid to stir from her kitchen lest 
she may contract the disease from which my poor child is 
suffering. But her old nurse still clings to Alice and assists 
me to attend her. She is fearfully ill, and we are nearly 
worn out with watching.” 

" We have, then, come in time to relieve you a little. 
Ethel and I will take charge of the sick room till you are 
rested.” 

“ Dear madam, it will be exposing yourself and Ethel to 
great danger. Alice has contracted the malady which was 
raging in the prison when she was thrown into it. Those 
cruel monsters could not spare even a young and tender girl, 
and it was with much effort I gained permission to remove 
her hither after the disease fastened on her. I fear she must 
die ; but I shall have strength granted me to do all that is 
necessary for her while life lingers. When she is gone, I do 
not care how soon my head is laid low beside her. She is 
my all — my darling; and cruel men have torn her from me 
in the budding promise of her life.” 

Mrs. Methurn laid her hand on his and hopefully said: 

“ Do not give up thus. I am a good nurse — the sight of 
Ethel, will be soothing to Alice, for she loves her ; and since 
we share the shelter of your roof, we will also share the duties 
of the sick room. Being here, we are as liable to take the 
fever in any part of the house as if we watched beside your 
daughter. Do not deny us this privilege.” 

Mr. Digby was about to reply when Ethel impetuously 
said : 

u Let me go to my dear Alice, and be of what use I can 
to her. I am not afraid ; and if the fever should attack me, 
I have youth and strength to resist it.” 


266 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Mr. Digby shook his head ; he would still have remon- 
strated, but his objections were overruled, and he finally led 
them to the room of the sick girl. As they drew near the 
door they heard her voice calling out wildly, and her father 
said : 

“ It is as I feared ; the loud peal struck on the knocker 
has aroused her again. When I left her she was a little 
calmer, and I had a faint hope that the delirium was subsid- 
ing” 

He cautiously opened the door, and motioning to them to 
remain without, he entered and spoke soothingly to his 
daughter. She wildly raved : 

“They have come for me; they hear me back to that 
gloomy den to perish there. I heard the summons; it was 
my death peal. You will not let them tear me away from 
you again ! ”■ 

“My daughter, calm yourself; it was no messenger for 
you. Some friends have come to see you — to help me nurse 
you. They are at the door now waiting permission to enter. 
Shall I bring then in?” 

“ What! bring in the wretches who would destroy me? 
Send them away — send them away — or I shall die before 
you ; ” and she broke into a wailing cry that was pitiful to 
hear. 

Mrs. Methurn stepped in and approached the bed, with 
tears streaming over her face at the painful spectacle the 
lately young and blooming girl presented. She sat up in 
her bed, wasted to a skeleton, her long hair hanging in dis- 
ordered masses around her thin face, from beneath which the 
large black eyes blazed with the fires that were consuming 
her life. 

“ Dear Alice, it is I — your friend, Mrs. Methurn ; I have 
come with Ethel to assist your father to nurse you, and we 
shall soon have you well again. Do you not know me ? ” 


THE PRISONERS. 


267 


A faint gleam of recognition flashed over the wan face, 
and she looked pleased when Ethel came in and stood beside 
her. She more gently said : 

“ I — I thought it was the soldiers come to take me to my 
doom. You look kind — you will not let them have me 
again if they do come — will you ?” 

There was a wistful, scared expression on her face which 
was painful to look on. Ethel took her burning hand in 
her own, and tried to smile on her as she said : 

“ They will not take you away again, Alice. They 
suffered me to be brought hither in place of going to prison, 
and I did as much as you to anger them. Let me be your 
nurse and bring you back to health. My aunt knows what 
to do for you, and we shall soon have you well again.” 

“Well!” repeated the poor girl — “oh, no — no.” She 
sunk back with a faint moan of pain, and overcome by the 
recent excitement, the flush faded from her face and she 
became insensible. 

The nurse, an elderly woman, who looked even more 
broken down than Mr. Digby by her recent trials, here 
came in from an adjoining apartment, raised the sinking 
head of the sick girl, and held some aromatic essence to her 
lips, while her father attempted to chafe her thin hands. 

Mrs. Methurn put him aside and performed that office 
herself. In a few moments Alice again unclosed her eyes ; 
but the faint gleam of partial reason was again overclouded, 
and she raved wildly of the days she had spent in the 
dreary precincts of the prison. 

“ If she could have slept on,” said the nurse, “ she might 
have awoke much better ; but that noise at the door made 
her as wild as she has ever been. Oh me ! it is sad to see 
my darling in such a strait.” 

“We will raise her yet, Mrs. Eulton,” said Mrs. Methurn, 
hopefully. “ I am an experienced nurse, and I will take 


268 THE gipsy’s warning. 

your place here while you get the rest you look as if you 
need so much. Providence sent me here to be of use to my 
dear Alice, and you may trust her to me with perfect 
safety.” 

u Thank you, ma’am, for your kindness ; but you risk a 
great deal yourself in coming into this room.” 

“ It is a risk I will cheerfully take if I can be of service 
to Miss Digby. I know something of illness, and if your 
patient has a strong anodjme administered to her now, she 
will get a good sleep, from which she may awake restored 
to reason. Who is her physician, and what orders has he 
left ? Tell me, that I may know what to do while you are 
resting.” 

The woman’s face clouded, and she resentfully said : 

“We can’t get a regular doctor. They are such cowards 
that they are afraid to come to a disloyal person, except 
under cover of the night. Two of ’em have sneaked in 
here after dark, and they told me to do exactly opposite 
things. I didn’t follow the advice of either of ’em. I did 
what I thought best, and I am glad you have come, ma’am, 
to help me with your judgment.” 

After this information, Mrs. Methurn was no longer 
surprised at the condition of the patient. Like most 
country ladies in her day, she possessed considerable skill in 
ordinary diseases; the village near the Prior}' had more 
than once suffered from such fevers as Alice seemed now 
suffering under, and her simple pharmacopoeia had been 
quite as successful in treating it as that of the village Escu- 
lapius. 

She carefully examined the patient, and decided on the 
course of treatment it would be advisable to pursue. Mr. 
Digby gladly consigned her to her skill, for new hope seemed 
to arise as he listened to her consoling words, and he finally 
said : 


THE PRISONERS. 


269 


u Do what your judgment dictates. If you had not 
come she must have died. Now, I have a faint hope that 
she may be saved.” 

Thus entrusted with the safet} 7 of the patient, Mrs. 
Methurn’s first care was to send the two overtasked 
watchers to rest. She then persuaded Alice to swallow the 
potion she prepared for her, and Ethel sat beside her, 
gently stroking her feverish hands, until its sedative effects 
began to tell upon her. 

At length the lips ceased their half inarticulate mutter- 
ings, the wild eyes closed in slumber, and the two sat in 
almost breathless silence to watch the crisis which Mrs. 
Methurn saw must occur in that sleep. Alice would awake 
to life, or never again unclose those flashing orbs upon the 
scenes of earth. 

It was a painful responsibility which Mrs. Methurn had 
taken upon herself ; but with her knowledge of disease, she 
saw that it was the only chance for life that remained to the 
sick girl, and she unhesitatingly adopted it. It was a sor- 
rowful watch, and to her dying day Ethel never forgot 
those hours so fraught with suffering to herself, and anguish 
to others. A dark cloud, from which she could see no loop- 
hole of escape, encompassed all that was dear to her, and 
her chosen friend lay before her almost in the embrace of 
death. 

But for her trusting heart there was one refuge; she 
prayed fervently to the All Father, and the abiding faith 
which was the guide of her life brought comfort to her even 
amid the ruin and desolation that had fallen on all con- 
nected with her. 

The hours passed slowly on, and more than once the rest- 
less and unhappy father came softly into the room to look 
upon the pallid face of the sleeper, and ask, in perturbed 
whispers, if life had not alre.ady passed from her worn 


270 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


frame. They could scarcely see that Alice breathed, hut on 
holding a mirror before her lips, the faint mist that gath- 
ered upon it showed that life was not yet extinct. 

Mrs. Methuru prepared nourishment herself, and kept it 
in readiness to administer as soon as she awoke, if she ever 
did so. The muffled roll of carriages in the street below 
penetrated to the room, but the senses of Alice were steeped 
in too deep oblivion to be conscious of the noise. 

Time seemed to linger in that darkened apartment, and 
the watchers began to fear that the spirit of Alice would 
pass away in that death-like slumber, when her heavy eye- 
lids were with difficulty lifted, and a voice that sounded 
faint and far away, came from her parched lips : 

" I am thirsty — give me drink, or I shall die.” 

Ethel sprang up, held the nourishing draught to her lips, 
while her aunt supported her head, and after swallowing a 
small portion her eyes wearily closed, and she again slum- 
bered. But her sleep was now more natural, and a soft 
dew broke out over her parched skin. 

“ The crisis is past, and life is left. With extreme care, 
we may raise her again,” whispered Mrs. Methurn, and 
Ethel resigned her place beside the bed, and softly glided 
from the room, to give this welcome assurance to the 
anxious father. 

She found Mr. Eigby seated near his daughter’s door, for 
he could not attempt to rest himself while so terrible a 
dread hung over him. He eagerly scanned the face of the 
young messenger, read hope in its expression, and rapidly 
said : 

“ She will live ! You could not wear that look if my 
child is dying.” 

u She is better ; I believe she will now be restored to you. 
She has taken nourishment, and sleeps more calmly.” 

He drew Ethel toward him, bowed his gray head upon 


THE PRISONERS. 271 

her shoulder, and wept tears of thankfulness. When more 
composed, he said : 

“ To your aunt and yourself I owe the life of my child. 
I did not know what to do for her, but you have saved her, 
and henceforth you shall be to me as my nearest kindred. 
OU, Ethel, if my Alice had died, I should have been deso- 
late indeed ! ” 

He drew her away, and entering the sitting-room with 
her, more calmly spoke : 

“ I have been so occupied with my own misery, that I 
have not inquired into the causes that brought you hither. 
Some calamity must have happened to Sir Hugh, or you 
would not be here alone. Where is he? Has he fled with 
Vernor, and left you and Mrs. Methurn to bear the burden 
of what they led you to do ? 99 

“ Sir Hugh has gone on the long journey we must all 
eventually take/’ she mournfully replied. “ Vernor was 
brought to town with us. He was placed in prison, but a 
bribe induced Kirke to permit my aunt and myself to seek 
protection with you, till we are summoned before Jeffreys.” 

“What do you mean, my child? Sir Hugh dead, and 
Vernor at the Priory ! I thought he was still at large, and 
would probably escape to the continent.” 

Ethel rapidly gave him an account of what had happened 
at the Priory within the last twenty-four hours. Mr. 
Digby listened with deep interest, and sighing heavily, 
said : 

“ Poor Sir Hugh ! his end expiates much of the evil of 
his life. Excuse me, my dear, but your guardian was not 
among the best of men. I am afraid this unhappj” affair 
will ruin Vernor, for now the baronet is gone, the estate 
will be sequestrated, and nothing will be left for him. 
Thank heaven! it will be in my power to befriend your 
aunt and yourself, for aside from the fine that will be 


272 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


exacted for my daughter’s share in the ovation to Mon- 
mouth, I have reason to believe that I shall escape with the 
sacrifice of a few thousand pounds to the court sycophants 
who are greedily appropriating the spoils exacted from those 
who took part in the late rebellion who are rich enough to 
purchase immunity. You will find it hard to believe, Ethel, 
but the king has granted to the maids of honor to the 
queen the money which will be exacted from the parents of 
the children who walked in the procession that day. They 
will send an agent here to collect it, and they demand seven 
thousand pounds as the penalty. But they will never be 
able to wring such a sum as that from us.” 

Ethel grew pale. 

“ That would be over three hundred pounds for each one. 
I can never raise the half of that sum for myself, and if I 
cannot, what will be done with me ? ” 

“ Your property is more than sufficient to bear such a 
drain ; or was it all given up to Yernor when they made 
you his wife ? If so, I am afraid that it will all be merged 
in one common ruin.” 

“ My uncle’s will gave all I possessed to Vernor on the 
day of our marriage. I have had a liberal allowance, but 
no settlement was made on me.” 

“ Is it even so, my poor child ? Then you must be my 
daughter, and here yourself and your aunt shall find a 
home as long as you will consent to remain in it. I shall 
speak with Mrs. Methurn, and endeavor to induce her to 
listen to such arrangements as I wish to make.” 

“ Dear Mr. Digby, you are too kind ; but I can think of 
nothing for the future while Vernor’s fate is so uncertain. 
What do you think will be his sentence?” 

His countenance changed, and he abruptly asked : 

“ Is Vernor dear to your heart, Ethel ? Has he made any 
effort to win the love of the child he lured into so unsuita- 
ble a marriage when she should have been at school ? ” 


THE PRISONERS. 273 

Ethel turned her face away, and after a pause said, in a 
faint voice : 

u The words spoken on our bridal day form the only bond 
between Vernor and myself. He has seldom shown any 
preference for me, and I have had the mortifying conviction 
forced on me that my fortune was the sole inducement to 
him to marry me.” 

“ Then you do not — you cannot love him, Ethel. Answer 
me truly, child, for I am your friend — and I will do all I 
can to save you from the sad fate he has given you.” 

“I have been reared with Vernor; I have from childhood 
regarded him as a brother ; but the love that should unite 
those who pledge themselves to each other for life does not 
exist between him and myself. I have long regretted that 
I was silly and childish euough to be led away by the fine 
presents he made me, till I — I thought that I could love 
him.” 

“ It was very natural, my dear. You were but a wee 
lassie when this wrong against you was consummated. But 
the calamities that have now overtaken you will lead to the 
severance of the tie that should never have been cemented.” 

“ In what way, sir? Oh ! not by the death of Vernor! 
Not by a death of violence ! I would rather live a loveless 
life with him than have that befall him.” 

“ My child, he has sown the wind, and he must reap the 
whirlwind. Death, or transportation, will be his fate. The 
last is even worse, in my opinion, than the first.” 

Ethel covered her face with her hands, and wept bitterly. 
She at length sobbed : 

“ Poor Vernor, if he is sent to a foreign land I will go 
with him. If he desires it, I will be his companion — his 
slave.” 

“ He will not wish it, Ethel ; neither will it be permitted 
by the authorities. Immunity can be purchased for you, 
17 


274 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


but such means of escape are not open to Vernor. He was 
the private secretary of Monmouth, was with him in all his 
wanderings here, and he will be condemned to a very severe 
penalty. If life is spared, he will probably be sent to the 
West Indies, and sold as a slave himself.” 

She uttered an exclamation of horror. 

“ Oh, no — no — death before that ! The judges will surely 
never be so cruel ! ” 

The lips of the listener curled bitterly. 

“ Child, the man who is coming hither to sit in judgment 
on these misguided people is more like a fiend from the 
Inferno than a human being. Jeffreys luxuriates in crime; 
the cries of anguish are music to his ears ; the scent of 
blood incense to his nostrils. He will never show leniency 
to one so deeply implicated in the rebellion as Vernor was. 
Yet his violence will give you back the freedom which will 
enable you to find a happier future than Vernor could have 
given you.” 

“At that price I do not wish it. I would rather hug my 
chains to my heart till they eat in, and canker there, than 
owe my release to such a crime against humanity. Oh ! Mr. 
Digby, can nothing be done to save him ? The judge is 
mercenary — will it indeed be impossible to purchase a par- 
don for him ? ” 

“If Sir Hugh had lived, something might have been 
attempted; but now the estate will be seized, and Vernor 
can claim nothing from it. He has dissipated your fortune, 
and he has not the means to pay for a pardon, even if it 
were possible to buy one. These are hard things to say to 
you, Ethel, but you should understand your true position, 
and if I have not misjudged you, you will have firmness to 
bear it. You will be extricated from the power of Vernor 
who, in his course toward you, has been swayed by self- 
interest alone. He has impoverished you, and thus put it 


THE PRISONERS. 


275 


out of your power to assist him. Let him embrace the fate 
he has prepared for himself, and take some thought for your 
own welfare. Be assured that he will never suffer you to 
stand in his way.” 

“ It may be so, sir, but his father gave me a home beneath 
his roof; he was not unkind to me, and — and I at least owe 
allegiance to him to whom my hand was plighted. Mr. 
Digby, will a free-born Englishman dare to sentence one of 
his own race to be sold as a slave, and sent to that dreadful 
climate ? Poor Yeruor will surely die there.” 

“ He deserves to, if he has not the courage to die as a 
brave man should,” replied he, with some warmth. “Ver- 
nor may purchase his life by treachery to those he has been 
leagued with ; but if he does, he is unworthy of a better fate. 
Many ship loads of prisoners have already been sent to Ja- 
maica. Interest was made to have them sent to Virginia or 
New Jersey, put that was refused, because there they would 
have found sympathy and assistance. They are transported 
to a deadly climate that they may not escape the death doom 
which even Jeffreys dare not award to such numbers as have 
been tried before him. My dear Ethel, take my advice, and 
be grateful that your fate is severed from Vernor’s by the 
sentence that exiles him. You have suffered enough through 
him ; you are but a child yet, and life will be fairer to you 
when he is removed from your path.” 

Ethel could not bring herself to take this view of her posi- 
tion, though it was the true one, and she felt a little hurt 
with the frank, free-spoken man who gave her this sensible 
advice. 

Mr. Digby was an honorable, high-toned gentleman, but 
he was impetuous of temper, and his indignation was easily 
aroused. He knew much of Vernor’s career, and he felt the 
deepest sympathy for the inexperienced child who had been 
sacrificed to his cupidity. In Ethel’s frequent visits to his 


276 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


daughter, he had been charmed by her ingenuous truthful- 
ness of nature, and he warmly encouraged the intimacy 
which grew up between her and Alice. 

Sir Hugh and himself had never been on more than friend- 
13’ terms with each other, and for the courtesy that was ex- 
tended to him he was indebted to the interest his ward in- 
spired and the respectful admiration Mr. Digby had long 
cherished for Mrs. Methurn. 

His wife had been dead many years, and until he met with 
the gentle and refined widow, Mr. Digby had seen no woman 
to whom he would have been willing to entrust his darling 
Alice. Her tender care for her adopted daughter had first 
attracted him toward her, and had he hoped for success in 
his suit, he would long since have offered Mrs. Methurn his 
hand. But she met him only as a valued friend, and he 
feared to disturb the pleasant relations between them by 
aspiring to a more tender place in her regard. 

Thus matters stood when Mrs. Methurn was forced by the 
dire calmities which had overtaken her to seek refuge and 
protection beneath his roof. This was no time to think of 
marriage, when the angel of Death still hovered over his 
household, and the land was filled with desolate homes and 
bleeding hearts ; but if Alice was restored to him ; if peace 
again blessed the country, he would speak ; he would take 
the object of his preference from the dreary future that lay 
before her, and give a safe and happy home to herself and 
the child of her adoption. 

With such thoughts filling his breast, Mr. Digby at length 
laid down to rest, after man}’- sad nights and days of watch- 
ing. He soon slept that heavy sleep which comes from 
exhaustion, while Ethel wept bitter tears over the fate of 
the unhappy Yernor. 


«Q 

VERNOR RECEIVES A VISITOR. 277 


CHAPTER XXII. 

VERNOR RECETYES A VISITOR. 

Time passed on, and Alice slowly struggled back to life 
with many fluctuations of hope and fear. 

All access to Yernor was denied to his friends, and Mr. 
Digby could only ascertain that he had not been thrown in 
the common prison. It was known that he possessed infor- 
mation as to the extent of the conspiracy against the govern- 
ment which those in power were most anxious to .secure, 
and it was not their policy to risk his death by exposing 
him to the infectious malady that raged among the prisoners, 
before gaining what they were so desirous of obtaining. 
Their object once attained, his fate would become a matter 
of as much indifference as that of the scores who were daily 
led to execution. 

Yernor was fully aware of this, and he tenaciously preserv- 
ed the secret that was of such vital importance to himself. 
He baffled all the efforts made to treat with him by preserv- 
ing a sullen silence, for he knew the treachery of those in 
whose power he was thrown, and he reserved the communi- 
cation he fully intended to make, as the price of his own 
life. If he was induced to make a premature disclosure he 
knew that pledges would be broken on the side of the court, 
for he understood the character of James too well not to be 
aware that one so deeply implicated with Monmouth as him- 
self would never be allowed to escape if any means could be 
found to condemn him. 

The room in which he was confined was in the jailer’s 
house, and had sometimes been used for the incarceration of 
persons of more importance than the common class of crim- 
inals. It was so well secured that there was no possibility 


278 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


of escape ; the walls within were plated with iron, and the 
windows were heavily grated; and hour by hour Vernor 
paced to and fro within its narrow limits like an enraged 
wild animal, bitterly cursing the fate which had led him 
hither. 

Misfortune did not improve this votary of self-indulgence, 
and the days he passed in that weary solitude, with the 
doom of death looming before him, hardened his reckless 
nature, and rendered him ready to embrace any chance of 
escape from the fate that menaced him. 

Gerald set out for Taunton as soon as the letter of his 
mother detailing the calamities which had fallen on the fam- 
ily reached him, and her sad heart was cheered by his pres- 
ence, though he could give her little hope as to the result of 
his cousin’s trial. 

Gerald had matured into a noble and true man, with that 
conscientious sense of responsibility to a higher power which 
is the best balance to character. His large, clear, gray eyes 
had the serene expression of conscious power, for he felt 
within himself the stirrings of a great intellect, and he 
knew that if life and health were granted to him he would 
make a name for himself, which posterity would not will- 
ingly let die. 

Young as he was, Mr. Clyde, recognizing his great legal 
abilities, had already associated him with himself in the 
defence of several important criminal cases. He was gifted 
with brilliant eloquence, and the silvery periods that flowed 
from his persuasive tongue often moved the jury to tears. 

After many difficulties had been overcome, Gerald suc- 
ceeded in obtaining access to Yernor, as his counsel in the 
approaching trial ; but he found his cousin cold and uncom- 
municative ; he seemed unwilling to owe his acquittal to the 
efforts of Gerald in his defence, if such a result could be 
hoped for from the most strenuous exertions in his favor. 


VERNOR RECEIVES A VISITOR. 279 


The young advocate returned from the interview disheart- 
ened and oppressed, and when Ethel eagerly inquired into 
the state of Yernor’s mind, he could give her little comfort 
or encouragement for the future. 

In her deep sorrow Ethel seemed to Gerald even more 
attractive than in her sweet childhood, and he resolutely 
held himself aloof from the fascination of her presence as 
much as he consistently could. He often found her with 
his mother, and the deep interest with which she inspired 
him was unconsciously betrayed in his manner, until Ethel’s 
own heart took the alarm ; for she felt that this renewal of 
daily intercourse was reviving her early feeling of prefer- 
ence for him, and she knew that she was no longer free to 
love him. She soon found a pretext of retiring to the room 
of Alice when he called, and Gerald understood and appre- 
ciated her delicate sense of propriety. 

He felt that it was painful to see her daily, and know 
that she was beyond his reach, yet he had come there with 
the hope of being able to save the life which stood between 
her and himself ; he would use his utmost efforts to do so, 
and he did not despair of ultimate success. 

Yernor had been in prison a week when, late at night, he 
heard the grating of the lock of his cell door and the jailer 
came in. He spoke in guarded tones : 

“ I am glad that you are still up, Mr. Methurn, for there 
is a lady here who has something of importance to say to 
you. I brought her here at this hour, because it must 
never be known that she has visited you. You under- 
stand ? ” 

“Yes, I fully comprehend that you have been heavily 
bribed to admit her,” he sardonically replied ; “ but I am 
not going to betray you. Any interruption to the solitude 
of this dreary place is welcome. Let her come in.” 

The man nodded, stepped to the door, and ushered in a 


280 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


tall figure in the deepest mourning, with a heavy crape veil 
falling nearly to her feet. Yernor had expected to see 
either his aunt or Ethel, but his visitor was much taller 
than either of them, and he said : 

“There must be some mistake ; this lady cannot wish to 
see me.” 

A sweet sad voice came from beneath the shrouding folds 
of crape, which said : 

“ You are certainly Mr. Yernor Methurn, and I must see 
you alone a few moments.” 

She made a slight gesture of command toward the jailer, 
who bowed respectfully and left the room, carefully closing 
the door behind him. Yernor drew forward the only chair 
the apartment contained, and she sank upon it with a weary 
sigh. The curiosity of the young man was aroused, and he 
impatiently waited for her to lift her veil and reveal her 
features. There was something familiar in the outline of 
the figure before him, but he could not recall when or 
where he had before seen it. She presently said : 

“You do not recognize me, Mr. Methurn? Yet how 
should you know the phantom of what I lately was ? Be- 
hold the work of the few past weeks of suffering and 
despair.” 

With a quick motion she threw aside the crape that con- 
cealed her features, and he beheld a face so white — so fixed in 
its expression of despair, that one might have deemed it that 
of the dead, but for the large wild eyes that gleamed from 
it with a restless fire that seemed bordering upon insanity. 

Yernor beneld the ruin of a beautiful woman on whom 
he had last gazed in the pride of ambition and passion. 
He exclaimed : 

“Lady Wentworth! How came you here? What 
brings you to see me?” 

“ I am permitted to come hither through the compassion 


VERNOR RECEIVES A VISITOR. 281 


of the jailer, who was once in my father’s service. He lis- 
tened to my prayer to see you, and you know why I have 
come, Mr. Methurn. They wait at Whitehall for that 
which you alone can furnish to give a color of justice to the 
inhuman sacrifice they meditate. The king will not con- 
demn his nephew to death unless that last aggravation is 
given. You have in your possession a paper prepared by 
Monmouth’s own hand, in which he accuses James of the 
murder of the late king. I came hither to entreat you by 
all his past kindness not to destroy your friend and bene- 
factor.” 

Vernor’s face did not change; it wore the impassive cold- 
ness which always characterized its expression when his 
course was determined on. He calmly said : 

“ I am sorry, madam, that you should have taken the 
trouble to apply to me for what is no longer in my posses- 
sion.” 

“ What has then become of it?” she gaspingly asked. 
“ Oh, man — cruel, heartless man, if you have given this up 
for your own behoof; if } t ou have sacrificed that noble — 
noble head to serve your own purposes, the curse of blood 
will yet fall upon you. I denounce it against you : I will 
cry to Heaven for retribution upon you, even as David cried 
to the Lord for vengeance upon his enemies; and mark you, 
his 'prayers were always answered , because they invoked 
a righteous punishment.” 

Vernor saw that the speaker was half maddened, but his 
respect for her sufferings did not prevent him from replying 
with a sneer: 

“Truly, madam, your prayers are uncalled for, for I am 
in as evil a case as any man need care to get in. The devil 
himself could not do me a worse turn than I did for myself 
when I joined the cause of Monmouth. As to the paper 
you refer to, I did not consider it of much importance, and 


282 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


I kept it about my person. The manifesto put forth tinder 
the Duke’s authority, distinctly accuses his uncle of many 
crimes as dark as the one you speak of — ” 

<c But,” she interrupted, u Monmouth can reasonably 
deny all knowledge of what was in it, for it was drawn up 
by Ferguson ; but if he is known to have reiterated the 
charge himself, it would be fatal to him.” 

There was a faint accent of regret in the tones of Vernor, 
as he replied : 

“ I am sorry that I did not make the distinction myself, 
but I neglected to do so. When I concealed other papers 
of importance relative to those who were implicated in the 
late rebellion, I overlooked this one. It was stitched in the 
lining of my coat; and only yesterday Kirke ordered a 
stricter examination of my garments to be made in the hope 
of finding a clue to those from whom money can be extorted 
as the price of their safety. He found the paper you wish, 
and by this time it is doubtless on its way to Whitehall.” 

There was a faint cry, and Lady Wentworth sunk back 
insensible. The jailer came in, and after throwing water 
upon her rigid face, she slowly recovered. She breathed a 
long, shuddering sigh, and after a few moments arose, drew 
her sable cloud around her, and spoke in strangely broken 
tones : 

“ The friend that has trusted you, you have betrayed to 
death. Had you been faithful to the man you professed to 
love, that paper would have been destroyed at the risk of 
your own life. I tell you, Vernor Methurn, that I would have 
made you rich ; I would have given you all — all save a bare 
pittance, from my great wealth, to have made it mine. 
You are mercenary; you are extravagant; I would have 
gratified your avarice to the utmost limits of my fortune if 
you had put it in my power to save him whom I love 
beyond expression. How, the scaffold is reared ; his head 


VERNOR RECEIVES A VISITOR. 283 


will fall, and you will be his executioner. You will also be 
mine, for I shall not long survive him.” 

Vernor’s irritable temper was aroused by these reproaches, 
and he haughtily said : 

" If you were to accuse yourself as his destroyer it would 
be nearer the truth. Madam, who tempted Monmouth to 
leave a safe asylum but you f Whose ambition soared to 
kingly state for him but yours ? As to your offers of 
wealth, a man who expects to be allowed but a few more 
weeks of life can well afford to despise them.” 

“ True — true,” she vaguely muttered ; “ I tempted him 
— I urged him on, and now, I can but die with him.” 

She made a slight gesture of farewell, and leaning heavily 
upon the arm of the jailer, left the room. 

A few more days and Monmouth perished on the scaffold, 
from which his vindictive uncle was resolute he should not 
escape. The broken heart which had clung to him with 
such passionate fondness lingered on yet a few months. In 
the spring of the following year, the parish church near 
which was situated the ancient and stately seat of the Went- 
worths was unclosed to receive the coffin of the young 
Baroness of Wentworth Nettlestide, over which a magnifi- 
cent monument was erected ; but in the neighboring wood- 
land was for years one of far deeper interest to those who 
visited the spot — her name carved upon a tree by the hand 
she loved too well. 

Vernor had spoken but a portion of the truth to Lady 
Wentworth. In an interview which took place between 
himself and Kirke before they left the Priory, he had sur- 
rendered the important paper as the price of better treat- 
ment than was accorded to those implicated in the late ris^ 
ing. To wring from him the names of the men of wealth 
who were secretly pledged to join Monmouth’s cause was 
now the object of the two relentless harpies who had been 


284 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


sent to Somersetshire to spread terror and desolation in their 
path. But Yernor was resolute to yield them up only in 
the last extremity, as he firmly believed that his life would 
be granted in return for the information be could give. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE TRIAL. 

The dreaded assizes came on. Jeffreys entered Taunton 
in the usual state, accompanied by the other judges, all 
robed in scarlet, and escorted by a troop of horse. The 
pageant filled all hearts with dread, in place of being, as 
heretofore, an occasion of festivity. He issued orders to 
have the court room hung with red, as a hint that no mercy 
was to be shown to those who had dared to revolt against 
the rule of James Stuart. 

It is not our purpose to describe the atrocious and disgrace- 
ful scenes that were enacted within its walls, nor to dwell 
upon the judicial murders perpetrated by this merciless man. 
History relates them in all their horrors, and in its pages 
the name of the chief actor in them is bequeathed to eter- 
nal infamy. 

Yernor was brought up for trial on the third day of the 
assizes; Gerald appeared to defend him, but the judge, after 
listening to the charges against the prisoner, scarcely allow- 
ed his counsel to speak a few sentences before he roared 
out : 

“ Stop that, sir. How dare you attempt to defend such a 
double-dyed villain as that? Take care, Mr. Advocate, or 
I shall order you under arrest yourself. It is treason to 
speak in defence of a man who is known to have been the 


THE TRIAL. 


285 


personal friend of Monmouth — who landed on these shores 
with him in armed rebellion against the king, and who is no 
doubt now plotting new mischief. But I’ll take care of that ; 
I’ll send him where he may raise an insurrection among the 
fiends of the Inferno. I’ll deal with him, I’ll warrant.” 

Jeffreys’ inflamed visage, coarse features and air of swag- 
gering authority, coupled with such insulting language, were 
a strange sight in an English court of justice. Gerald 
respectfully remonstrated : 

“ But, my lord, the law of the land guarantees a man a 
fair trial for his life, and you refuse to hear any extenuating 
circumstances. I wish to ” 

“ Go to the d — 1 with your wishes! What do I care for 
them ? I am here to punish traitors, not to hear them de- 
fended, and that man at the bar is one of the vilest among 
them. Speak another word, at your peril ! A pretty pass I 
should come to if every young jackanapes of a lawyer is to 
take up my time listening to his balderdash. The evidence 
is dead against the prisoner. Jurymen, you know your 
duty, and, mark me, you shall perform it.” 

Frightened by his menacing tones, the jury hurried out 
to go through the farce of consulting together, when it was 
evident that the fate of the prisoner was already decided. 
Gerald again attempted to speak a few words, but, aroused 
to a pitch of insane fury, Jeffreys ordered him to be removed 
from the court. 

This mockery of a trial was but a specimen of hundreds 
of others, from which men were hurried to their fatal doom. 
The jury remained out longer than the judge deemed neces- 
sary, and he again stormed out: 

“ The case does not admit of five minutes’ deliberation. 
Go to them, Mr. Sheriff, and tell them my time is not to be 
trifled with in such a manner.” 

Thus pressed on, the jury returned, looking scared and 


286 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


bewildered. The foreman did not immediately speak, and 
Jeffreys thundered out : 

“ Come, sir — what have you to say ? Are you dumb, or 
have you lost the little sense nature bestowed on you ? ” 

“ My lord,” stammered the man thus addressed — “ we 
find the prisoner guilty, but recommend him to the mercy 
of the tribunal.” 

“ Mercy,” repeated the judge, with an ominous grin. 
u That’s an attribute I don’t patronize where rebels are con- 
cerned. You attend to your duty, and I’ll attend to mine.” 

He drew on the cap of condemnation, arose and said : 

“ I sentence you, Yernor Methurn, to be taken to the 
place of execution to-morrow at eleven o’clock, and there 
banged by the neck until you are dead — dead — dead, and 
may all traitors meet with a like fate — Amen.” 

Yernor heard the sentence with more equanimity than 
might have been expected. He became slightly pale, but 
he did not remove his eyes from the face of the speaker, and 
he merely bowed his head in submission to the sentence. 

He looked around the court as he arose to leave, and his 
eyes encountered those of Melchoir, who had purposely 
placed himself where he must see him. There was a flash 
of exultation in those of the Gipsy, which was replied to 
by one of scorn and loathing from the condemned man. 

Gerald was waiting for him at the door, and he was per- 
mitted by the jailer to accompany him to his prison. When 
they were alone Gerald said with emotion : 

“ I would gladly have served you to the best of my ability, 
Yernor, but this brutal creature who has been sent hither to 
sit in judgment on better men than himself, would not per- 
mit it. My heart is wrung with sorrow and indignation at 
witnessing such a prostitution of the forms of justice.” 

“ I knew that you would not be permitted to help me, Ger- 
ald. They have their own ends to gain by condemning me, 


THE TRIAL. 


287 


but I have the means of purchasing my life from them. If 
I cannot pay money to the mercenary wretches, I can point 
out to them those who can, on whom they have hitherto been 
unable to pounce.” 

“ And will you — you, a Methurn — do this, even to save 
your life?” asked Gerald, in an excited tone. “Oh, Ver- 
nor, even death were perferable to such dishonor.” 

“ If your life were the penalty, perhaps you would think 
differently,” he sullenly replied. “ I do not give over any 
one to the executioner. I merely surrender into the hands of 
these cormorants the power to extort money from those who 
merit punishment as much as I do. If I comply with their 
demands I shall be permitted to go into temporary exile. 
Ethel I give up to you. I have never loved the poor child, 
and now that her ruin can be laid at my door,. I like her less 
than ever. Her presence would be an everlasting reproach 
to me ; you can now easily get her released from her bonds, 
and I hope you will be happy together. She knows that I 
am not in love with her ; that I have scarcely the means to 
live myself without taking on myself the burden of her sup- 
port.” 

“ She has property in Holland, and she relies on that as a 
means of subsistence for you both.” 

Vernor uttered a loud whistle. 

“ That is moonshine. The fact is, I led Sir Hugh to be- 
lieve that the real estate she inherited had not been tampered 
with. I had my own reasons for doing so ; but I have really 
mortgaged the whole of it, and my creditors will seize on it 
as soon as they hear of what has happened here.” 

“ Then of all the property bequeathed to her by her uncle, 
there is absolutely nothing left ? ” asked Gerald, in alarm. 
“ Oh, Vernor, how could you act thus, by a minor thrown so 
completely in your power ? ” 

“ If you had been in my place, with the temptations that 


288 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


were thrown in my way, you would have done no better. 
I lost at the gaming table; but now I understand the tricks 
of the gentry that fleeced me, and when I have a chance I 
will return the compliment. But living by one’s wit's is 
rather a precarious method of getting along, and I cannot 
think of burdening myself with a wife to whom I am more 
than indifferent. If Lord Clifton were to die, I might con- 
sent to keep my troth, if I could make my peace with the 
government. Do you know if he is likely to step out of the 
world before long ? ” 

Gerald looked at the fair, handsome face before him, with 
its light blue eyes, and sunny hair ; its expression of reck- 
less defiance ; and he felt that words would be thrown away 
on one so callous to all the tender feelings that ordinarily 
sway mankind. Yernor thought of himself alone, and he 
was careless as to who might know it. 

His cousin gravely replied: 

“ Lord Clifton’s health has improved of late. He was 
married last month to a lady to whom he has long been 
deeply attached. His father refused his sanction to the mar- 
riage, and it was deferred till after his death. Thus Ethel 
has little prospect of now succeeding to her grandfather’s 
estates.” 

“So much the worse for me,” said Yernor, indifferently. 
“ The thing is settled then. You may take Ethel yourself 
and live like Darby and Joan together; she’ll suit you as a 
wife much better than such a wild good-for-naught as I am ; 
and I know very well that you have always had a jealous 
corner in your heart because I appropriated your Lady Bird. 
But there is no harm done. Ethel never cared for me half 
as much as for you, though the poor thing has such straight- 
laced ideas of duty, that she tried to do so with all her heart.” 

Gerald made no reply to this, but after a pause said: 

“Yernor, do you know that to raise the fine which will 


THE TRIAL. 


289 


be exacted of Ethel, she will be compelled to mortgage the 
annuity left her by her grandfather, and thus leave herself 
no means of support for several years to come? Is there 
absolutely nothing left of her fortune?” 

“Nothing — have I not told you that ’tis all gone? Let 
her apply to her uncle — in such a strait he will surely help 
her.” 

“ I afraid he will not. My earnings as yet scarcely ena- 
ble me to live, and my mother will have to pay a fine her- 
self which will cripple her resources.” 

Vernor fretfully said: 

“ What is the use of troubling a man in my position with 
all these annoying details ? I am ruined — a prisoner with 
the doom of death hanging over me; is not that enough for 
me to bear, without having other people’s troubles thrust 
on me ? Ethel is better off than I am. She’ll find friends 
to help her. I am as sorry as you can be that the money is 
all gone ; but it is a stubborn fact that it is all spent, and 
talking won’t alter it.” 

At that moment the jailer entered and warned Gerald that 
the time allowed for the interview had expired. He arose, 
and as he wrung the hand of the prisoner, whispered: 

“Dear Vernor, be true to yourself, and do not disgrace the 
name you bear, by treachery.” 

Vernor clasped his hands around his throat, and recklessly 
said : 

“ I couldn’t stand that, Gerald. Don’t ask me to let my 
neck be squeezed to save the purses of a few rich men from 
a similar process.” 

He laughed aloud at the expression of his cousin’s face, 
and went on : 

“ Tell Ethel that I have not played my last card yet, and 
it is sure to win. Since she no longer represents the queen 
of diamonds, I leave her to you as the queen of hearts. 

18 


290 the gipsy’s warning. 

Good bye, Gerald ; don’t look so shocked. Nature made 
me a gay galliard, and she did not encumber me with a 
superfluity of sentiment, as she did you and my quandom 
lady love.” 

The door closed upon him, and Gerald took his way to 
the residence of Mr. Digby in a strange whirl of feeling. 
The hardness shown by Yernor amazed and shocked him, in 
spite of his previous knowledge of his character; his own 
high-toned and sensitive nature was so different, that he was 
at a loss to comprehend the windings of the subtle and 
unscrupulous spirit that swayed his cousin. The little feel- 
ing Yernor had betrayed for Ethel, alienated the sympathy 
of Gerald from him more than all the acts of his life of 
which he had been cognizant. He began to feel with Mr. 
Digby, that if she could sever herself from him altogether, 
it would be far better for her future happiness. 

The news of Yernor’s condemnation had already reached 
those who were so deeply interested in his fate, and Gerald 
found his mother and Ethel in the greatest distress. What 
he communicated to them with reference to Yernor’s hopes, 
did not tend much to lighten their affliction. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 

The night was passed in fluctuations of hope and fear; 
but at an early hour in the morning a letter from Vernor 
was brought to Ethel, which contained these words: 

“ I have made my terms, Lady Bird, and I shall be free 
to leave this wretched country. The hangman will not get 


DAWN OF A NEW DAT. 


291 


me yet, nor must you blame me too severely for the course I 
have taken to save myself from his tender ministrations. I 
have perilled no man’s life ; I have only used the means in 
my hands to save my own, and it is a false idea of honor 
that will condemn me. 

“In place of being executed this morning, some meaner 
man, already condemned, will take my place, and I shall be 
removed to the sea coast, where I am to be allowed to escape 
to a foreign shore. Forget me, Ethel ; let me no longer be 
the shadow on your path. I absolve you from all allegiance 
to myself, and Gerald can easily have you freed by such 
legal forms as may be necessary to render our ill-starred 
marriage null and void. 

“ Do not attempt to see me ; you will only subject your- 
self to insult and failure, for a meeting will not be permitted. 
I shall be removed from Taunton to-day, and in twenty-four 
hours I hope to be safe upon the sea, free ! — free ! . Oh, how 
my heart bounds at the thought of escape from this weary 
bondage. 

“ Do not distress yourself about my condition. I shall 
have funds furnished me for my immediate expenses, as that 
was a part of my bargain with those I have dealt with in 
this affair. Once on the continent, I can support myself 
easily enough. I shall become a citizen of the world, and 
trouble you no more. 

“ Remember me to my aunt and Gerald, and tell the lat- 
ter it will be useless to attempt to see me again ; neither do 
I wish it. Forgive me, Ethel, for all the wrong I have done 
you, and let the restoration of your freedom atone for it. 

“Vernor Methurn.” 

In spite of her misgivings as to the questionable means 
by which Vernor had escaped his impending doom, the heart 
of Ethel was lightened of a heavy load, and for a few mo- 


292 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


ments she only thought of the two great facts his letter re- 
vealed — Vernor would evade a shameful death, and she 
would be forever released from him. 

The letter had been brought in by Gerald, and he stood 
beside a window while she read it, unwilling to watch the 
variations of her face while thus occupied. She offered it to 
him in silence, for at that moment her emotion was too great 
for words. When he had glanced rapidly over it, Gerald 
drew near, and sat down beside her. 

“What do you think now, Ethel ? Do you still consider it 
your duty to follow a man who thus throws you off! Does 
your heart cling to him, Lady Bird ? ” 

“Oh no ! — no ! ” she impulsive]} 7 exclaimed. “ When Ver- 
nor was first arrested he told me he would release me, and I 
will own to you that this assurance was the solitary gleam 
of brightness left me then. But on reflection, I did not 
think it right to abandon him in his wretchedness and deso- 
lation. I would have sacrificed myself, if I could have been 
of any benefit to him. I thought that if he escaped, the 
property I still possess in Holland would be a support to us, 
and it was my duty to share it with him. I believed he 
would not consent to accept the last remnant of my estate 
unless I had done so — and — and ” 

She paused at a loss for words to explain her real feelings, 
and Gerald spoke with some bitterness : 

“ W T hat will you think, Ethel, when I tell you that even 
that pittance is gone ? sacrificed like the rest to Vernor’s 
improvidence.” 

He had expected her to show regret at this announcement, 
but a bright expression of joy flashed over her face. 

“ Thank Heaven ! then I can accept his decision without 
a pang. I have nothing to give him ; he cares not for me, 
and my conscience will not accuse me of wrong toward him 
if I accept the freedom he restores to me. Dear Gerald, 
what do you think ? n 


DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 


293 


u That you are an angel of forgiveness, Ethel. Vernor 
has ruined you ; he has betrayed the sacred trust reposed in 
him, and you, poor child, were thinking only of him ; were 
ready to sacrifice your life to a man who has shown the most 
shameful disregard of your feelings and interests. Let him 
go on the way he has prepared for himself. I am afraid his 
course will not be a reputable one, and I thank God with 
my whole heart that you will be severed from him, even at 
the sacrifice of your fortune.” 

Ethel bowed her head upon his hands as she had done in 
their old childish days, and wept a few tears of sweet emo- 
tion. She presently looked up and said : 

“ Let the money go, Gerald; I care little for it, for it has 
brought me onty unhappiness.” 

“But, Ethel, how are } t ou now to meet the demand that 
will be made on you in a few days? It is known that 
William Penn, the celebrated Quaker and philanthropist, is 
on his way here as the agent of the maids of honor to 
whom the fines were given that are to be levied on the un- 
fortunate children who appeared in the procession that wel- 
comed Monmouth. It is a singular errand for him to come 
on, and I do not understand his motives for accepting such a 
commission.” 

“ Be sure they are good ones, Gerald, or such a man would 
never have undertaken it. As you are a lawyer, tell me 
how am I to raise money from my annuity.” 

“You can mortgage it for a few years; but what are you 
to live on in the meantime? If I had a home, however 
humble, my mother and yourself should share it with me ; 
but you know how poor a young lawyer struggling into prac- 
must be.” 

“ Yes — I understand all that ; but if the fine is not ex- 
cessive, I could retain a moiety of my income to supply my 
actual wants, and I could learn to be very economical. Do 


294 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


you think the government will really exact seven thousand 
pounds from us ? If so much is demanded, I do not know 
how I shall escape outlawry.” 

“ It is a shameful fraud ! ” burst forth Gerald ; “ and it 
will cover the King with infamy, that with his sanction such 
a sum is required from irresponsible children acting under 
the orders of their teacher. And the queen, a woman ! per- 
mits her own personal attendants to make a prey of her un- 
fortunate subjects. It will be a dark page in our history 
that tells of this transaction.” 

He arose and walked the room in irrepressible excitement. 
At this moment Mrs. Methurn entered and asked : 

“ Have you been able to see Yernor yet, my son ?” 

“ I have been to the prison, mother, but he refused to re- 
ceive me. A letter for Ethel was given me which she will 
show you.” 

Mrs. Methurn hastily ran her eyes over the page, and, 
sighing wearily, said : 

“It was a terrible alternative, and I dare not judge him 
harshly in such extremity as he was reduced to. Ethel, 
darling, you will now remain with me.” 

“Always — always ; I have been wretched at the thought 
that I might be compelled to leave you. But, aunty, I think 
we should make an effort to see poor Yernor again, even if 
he has forbidden it.” 

“ You forget, my love, that we are prisoners in the house, 
and the sentinel stationed at the door will not permit us to 
leave it without an order from his superior officer. If Gerald 
can obtain one for us to visit the prison, I will gladly accom- 
pany you there.” 

“ I have already applied for one, and been rudely refused. 
Yernor will be hurried away at an early hour, and no 
opportunity will be granted his friends to see him. I am 
going back now, and I shall remain on the watch near the 


DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 295 

jail, and endeavor to gain a few words with him as he passes 
out.” 

Mr. Digby was summoned to the council that was then 
held, but as he was also a prisoner in his own house, he 
could do nothing to aid them in the accomplishment of the 
wish that lay nearest their hearts at that moment : to look 
upon the fugitive once more, and express their interest in his 
future welfare. 

Much had already been conceded to Mr. Digby in per- 
mitting him to remain beneath his own roof, and he knew 
it would be useless to attempt to gain leave for any member 
of his family to go abroad under any pretext whatever. 

Disappointed in this hope, Ethel wrote a few lines to Ver- 
nor, expressing her interest in all that concerned him with 
the freedom of a sister for a dearly beloved brother. This 
she confided to Gerald, and he departed on his errand. He 
was absent several hours, and on his return stated that he 
had not been able to see his cousin at all. Yernor had been 
removed by a private entrance to the jail yard, and only as 
the carriage was driving away did he discover the ruse that 
had been practised. 

“ He did not get my letter, then ?” said Ethel. 

“ I gave that to the jailor myself, who promised to deliver 
it; but he refused to admit me, as he said it was not the 
wish of the prisoner to see any of his friends.” 

“He is gone,” said Mr. Digby, “and I, for one, am 
glad of it. Vernor has shown at the last that he is utterly 
indifferent to those he leaves behind him, and you will all 
do well to let him go on the path he has chosen without 
wasting a regret upon him. He can take care of himself, 
and he will be sure to do so.” 

Each one present felt that he spoke the truth, yet a 
yearning tenderness toward the poor wanderer filled at least 
two hearts near him, and many a thought was cast after the 


296 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


absent one, many a prayer breathed for his safety and well- 
being. 

By this time Alice was sufficiently recovered to leave her 
room, and she now came in looking delicate and languid, 
but quite able to take a little daily exercise. This could 
only be obtained by walking in the garden attached to the 
rear of the house, for, ill as she had been, permission could 
not be obtained for her to take an airing in the carriage. 

Her father hastened to sustain her steps, and Gerald 
placed a chair for her near the fire which a cool September 
day rendered necessary. After a few moments, Mr. Digby 
asked Gerald to accompany him to his library as he had 
something of importance to say to him, and the ladies were 
left together. 

Mrs. Methurn had drawn near Miss Digby, and she 
fondly leaned her head upon her shoulder and softly said : 

“But for you I must have died. Let me call you mother, 
for I love you as one. Oh ! if you would be one to me — if 
you would give the dear hand that holds mine to one who 
will value it even more highly than I do, you would make 
me the happiest girl in the whole world.” 

Mrs. Methurn flushed slightly and said, with a smile : 

“Your gratitude exaggerates the services I have been 
enabled to render you, Alice. Love me as much as you will, 
for I place you in my heart next to my own children.” 

“Then you will be my mother? You will not refuse the 
station my father is anxious to offer you. Ethel shall be 
my sister, and we will never more be parted. Oh ! dear 
Mrs. Methurn, shall it not be so ? ” 

“ Alice, do not let you affection for me lead you to speak 
of what you do not understand. Your father has been a 
good friend to me ; but he has said nothing to induce me to 
believe that he regards me in any other light.” 

“Because until now he could not see his way clearly out 


DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 


297 


of all the difficulties that have lately surrounded us. But 
he has received the assurance that the sacrifice of some 
money will smooth the way before him, and the sum 
demanded he can easily pay. He is speaking with your son 
now on this very subject, and I thought I would prepare 
you for what is coming. Oh ! Mrs. Methurn, if you only 
knew how good and noble my dear father is, you could not 
find it in you heart to refuse him.” 

Mrs. Methurn was not as much surprised at this revela- 
tion as Alice might have imagined. The exuberant grati- 
tude of Mr. Digby for her kindness to his motherless child 
had been expressed in such terms as sometimes induced 
her to think that he regarded her as more than a friend; 
but the thought was repelled as soon as it intruded. She 
had never thought of making a second marriage, and, had 
her home at the Priory still been open to her, she w T ould 
probably have declined his offer, advantageous as it certain- 
ly was. But, now, she scarcely felt as if she had the right 
to refuse an honorable alliance with a man of independent 
fortune and high character, who was certainly not disagree- 
able to her. She felt for him the highest esteem ; he could 
give a home to Ethel, and probably advance the interests 
of Gerald, so she only pressed the hand that lay in her own, 
and, kissing the brow of Alice, gently said: 

“ When your father speaks on this subject himself it will 
be time enough for me to think of it.” 

A flash of joy brightened the black eyes of Alice, and 
she said : 

“Only think rightly, Mrs. Methurn, and all will be well. 
Oh! he is the kindest father that ever a lonely girl had, 
and I am sure he will make the best of husbands if — if — ” 

“ Hush, my dear. This subject is forbidden between us ; 
I am sure your father does not wish you to do his wooing 
for him.” 


298 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ Oh, no indeed. He can do it much better for himself, 
so I shall he quiet.. I will not say another word. Ethel, 
dear, you do not know what an important affair we have 
been canvassing while you have been dreaming beside that 
window. The sun shines brightly; come with me into the 
garden for our daily walk.” 

The two girls left the room to get their hats and shawls, 
and Mrs. Methurn remained buried in a reverie, from which 
she was at length aroused by the entrance of her son, who 
sat down beside her and poured into her ear the same story 
Alice had lately told. Mr. Digby had requested him to 
ascertain if she would receive his proposals. 

She looked up at him and asked : 

“What are your feelings with reference to it, Gerald? 
Are you willing that I shall marry a second time ?” 

“ Hear mother, so noble and true a man as this one should 
not be lightly refused. Mr. Higby has won my heart by 
the w^y he spoke of our dear Ethel. If you will give him 
the right to do so, he will adopt her as his child ; he will 
settle the fine that must have impoverished her, and I am 
sure he will be everything to you that a husband should be 
to the woman he chooses as his wife.” 

“ But I shall not permit him to do so much for Ethel. I 
have some money of my own, and with what she can raise 
on a portion of her annuity, it will suffice without taxing 
Mr. Higby. That he will regard her as his daughter is 
enough, though I would accept no man unless he were wil- 
ling to do that.” 

“ Then you will not refuse him ? ” 

“Ho — I esteem him; I believe I can make his home 
happier, and I am grateful for the release from future care 
that he offers me. There is not much romance in this, you 
think: but remember we are both past the age of senti- 
ment; yet we have feeling enough left to appreciate each 
other most kindly and tenderly.” 


DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 


299 


“ That is enough, mother mine, and I thank you for your 
decision. You will make a good man happy, and take from 
my mind the weight that has pressed heavily upon it since 
my uncle’s death. I am as yet too poor to help you, though 
I hope the day is not far distant in which I shall win both 
fame and fortune. In the meantime, my struggle will be 
much lightened if I know that the two beings most dear 
to me on earth are comfortable and happy. Shall I go to 
Mr. Digby now ? ” 

“ Yes — do not keep him in suspense. Tell him that I 
will be a mother to his daughter.” 

In a few moments Mr. Digby joined her, and the two 
held a long and sensible conversation, in which they settled 
their future plans. At its close he said : 

“ I have strong hopes that I cap retain Gerald near us. 
There is a flourishing law firm here, the head of which is 
an old friend of mine. Mr. Markham is infirm and anxious 
to retire from business. His junior partner will succeed 
him as head man, and I think I can place your son in the 
position Morton now holds. Gerald will thus step into a 
handsome practice at once.” 

She warmly thanked him, and was retiring when the two 
girls came in from their promenade. Alice glanced rapidly 
from one to the other and exclaimed : 

“ It is settled, then, and as I wished ? ” 

“Yes, my daughter — salute your future mother; and you, 
Ethel, congratulate the father who adopts you as his child 
from this hour.” 

Ethel looked bewildered, for she had never expected such 
a donouement as this ; but she approached Mr. Digby and 
gave him her hand. He drew her into his arms, and, 
pressing a paternal kiss upon her brow, said : 

“ You belong to me now, Ethel, for your adopted mother 
is to be my wife.” 


300 THE gipsy’s warning. 

Her face flushed with a glow of happiness, and she ingenu- 
ously replied : 

“ Oh, sir, I am so grateful for this. You are like the 
good fairy, who comes in exactly at the right time to lift 
worthy people out of the slough of Despond. I have some- 
times thought that you and aunty are so good, so noble, 
that you would be worthy of each other.” 

“ I appreciate your judgment, my dear, and I am only 
too happy that your aunt thinks as I do, that we shall make 
a very pleasant family party.” 

In the meantime, Alice was kissing and caressing Mrs. 
Methurn, in her affectionate way, and promising that she 
would be the best and most dutiful of daughters to her. 

It was arranged that the marriage was not to take place 
till the present difficulties were settled, and the curse of 
blood lifted from the land. 

On the following morning there was an important arrival 
at Mr. Digby’s. A man of noble physiognomy and stately 
presence, dressed in the drab garments and wide-brimmed 
hat of the Quakers, alighted from a handsome carriage and 
demanded admittance on business of importance with the 
master of the house. Mr. Digby received him in his library, 
and the stranger addressed him in a pleasant voice : 

“Friend Digby, thee sees before thee William Penn, 
whose name is probably not unknown to thee. I have come 
on an errand thee will probably think strange for one of 
my persuasion to accept; but when I have explained my 
motives for doing so, thee will see that I have been actuated 
by benevolent feelings toward the poor children who are 
threatened with such hard terms on the part of the govern- 
ment.” 

“I am glad to welcome you beneath my roof, Mr. Penn. 
I was pleased when I learned that you were to be sent 
hither as the agent of the court, as I know that you will be 


DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 


301 


more lenient in your course than many others would have 
proved. Pray be seated, and let us discuss this affair 
amicably.’ 7 

Penn sat down with his hat still on ; Mr. Digby half 
smiled, but he did not invite him to remove it, as he was 
aware that the Quaker had refused to do so even in the 
presence of the King. Penn glanced around the comforta- 
ble room, with the rows of books lining the walls, and said : 

“Friend Digby, thy lines seem to have fallen in pleasant 
places, and I regret that thee should have had any share 
in the recent outbreak.” 

“I had none beyond being one of those who were present 
at the ovation offered to Monmouth in this town. I was 
carried awaj T by the enthusiasm of the hour, but I have 
since deeply lamented the terrible evils that have fallen on 
the poor people who took part in the rebellion.” 

“ Yes, yes — they suffer dreadfully, and the government 
strikes at the least criminals, and spares the greater. But 
it is not my business to criticise the conduct of those in 
power. The King is a good master to me, and I came 
hither to serve him. Thy daughter is more deeply impli- 
cated in the affair of the procession than any other; but I 
have been told that she has already suffered severely for the 
part she took.” 

“She was thrown in prison, and very nearlj 7 died of the 
fever she contracted there. Money induced those in whose 
power she was, to give her back to me when life was at its 
lowest ebb. 1 thank Heaven ! she is now recovering, and 
will soon be quite well again.” 

“Thee has much cause to be grateful, indeed. I have 
already seen many of the parents of these poor children, 
and I am happy to say to thee that the fine imposed on 

them will not be so heavy as was at first threatened. The 

•/ 

maids of honor, to whom the Queen gave the proceeds, have 


802 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


listened to my representations, and they have consented to 
take one-seventh of what was at first demanded. A 
thousand pounds will be levied upon the young girls, of 
which your daughter, and the young lady who presented 
the Bible to Monmouth, must pay fifty pounds each. The 
others will pay only twenty.” 

This was welcome news to Mr. Digby, more on Ethel’s 
account than on that of Alice, for both she and Mrs. 
Methurn had firmly refused to allow him to advance the 
money himself for her. He warmly said : 

“We have to thank you for this abatement, sir, I am 
well aware ; and I now understand your motives for accept- 
ing a commission so apparently at variance with your creed 
and life. Accept my thanks for your efforts to serve these 
unfortunate children. They were innocent of wrong, and 
only acted under the orders of the principal of the school. 
I hope Mrs. Malton will not suffer herself ; the money 
exacted from her pupils should suffice these grasping dames 
d'honneur — a title they hardly deserve, I am afraid.” 

A faint smile, slightly sarcastic, curled the Quaker’s lip ; 
he replied : 

“ They are of the world’s people, and they have much use 
for money. I believe the schoolmistress escapes. The girls 
are the daughters of wealthy men, and the ladies I repre- 
sent do not scruple to make the parents pay for the impru- 
dence they were allowed to commit.” 

“We can easily pay the fine, Mr. Penn; but the fact 
does not lessen the disgrace to those who demand it. I 
regret that countrywomen of mine should be willing to 
accept money extracted in so disgraceful a manner.” 

“That is thy opinion, friend Digby, but theirs happens 
to be contrary to it. I do not sit in judgment on either 
party. I merely perform the task I undertook in settling 
this affair on the easiest terms to those concerned in it 


DAWN OF A NEW DAT. 


303 


which would he listened to by my employers. My motives 
ma} T be misunderstood and misrepresented, but my course 
has always been to do what good came to my hand without 
reference to the opinion of others.” 

“And nobly and well have you performed your Divine 
Master’s business,” said Mr. Digby, with warmth. “ I 
cannot regret the payment of fifty pounds on behalf of my 
daughter, since it purchases her safety, and has given me 
an opportunity to speak face to face with the greatest phi- 
lanthropist of his day. I have long reverenced your name, 
sir, and my roof is honored by your presence beneath it.” 

“ I thank thee, friend Digby, for thy good opinion, but 
I must not spend my time in listening to compliments. I 
have much to do before I leave Taunton, and the court 
ladies are pressing for a settlement in this affair.” 

“ I am quite ready to pay my daughter’s fine now,” said 
Mr. Digby, rising and opening a secretary, from which he 
drew forth a pocket-book. He took from it a hundred 
pounds and offered them to Penn. He took fifty pounds, 
and said : 

“ This is th\ T liability. The rest I have no concern 
with.” 

“ Excuse me — I should have explained that Miss Clifton 
is under my protection, and the remaining sum is paid on 
her account.” 

“ Does thee do this for the young lady, or is Lord Clifton 
unable to pay for his niece?” 

“ No application has been made to him to do so. This 
money has been placed in my hands by her adopted mother 
for this purpose. Ethel expected to have to raise more 
from her own means, but fortunately it will not now be 
necessary.” 

“ And her means, if I am rightly informed, have been 
fraudulently made away with by her guardian and his son. 


304 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


I have heard something of this young lady, and the way in 
which her fortune was obtained by those who should have 
protected her. I am sorry that she has anything to pay, 
for she has been shamefully treated.” 

“She has been deeply wronged, it is true; but we will 
not speak of that. Sir Hugh Methurn has gone to his 
account, and his son has been hardly dealt with of late. I 
shall take steps to annul the bonds that bind Ethel to the 
young man so soon as my own marriage with her protec- 
tress, Mrs. Methurn, takes place, which will now be in a 
few- weeks.” 

“Then I am to congratulate thee,” said Penn, with a 
benevolent smile. “ I am glad the lady and her protegee 
have found a friend in thee, for the estate of the late Sir 
Hugh is already forfeited to the crown.” 

“ I am aware of that ; and his son will become a wan- 
derer upon the face of the earth. His wrong to Ethel is 
almost expiated by such a downfall.” 

“ Perhaps so — such wrongs generally meet retribution 
even in this world. Let us finish this business, friend 
Digby ; I have the receipts ready written, and I will sign 
two of them in behalf of your daughter and this young 
lady.” 

The transfer was soon made, and the visitor arose. Mr. 
Digby attended him to the door, and saw him depart; he 
then went into the family room, where, as he anticipated, 
he found the three ladies. Mrs. Methurn was sewing — 
Alice engaged in drawing, while Ethel read aloud to them. 

Alice glanced at her father’s face, threw down her pencil 
and exclaimed : 

“ What pleases you so much, father? Something good 
must have happened.” 

“ Yes — something that will make you happy, my darling. 
You and Ethel are free girls once more. Mr. Penn has 
just been with me, and I have settled your fines.” 


DAWN OF A NEW DAY. 


305 


She clapped her hands joyfully. 

“ That is good news indeed ! Oh, how I wish I had 
known that William Penn was with you. I. should have 
been so glad only to look at such a man.” 

“ Well, he is a goodly looking man, but as he would not 
like to be made a show of, I refrained from letting you 
know that he was in the house.” 

Mrs. Methurn looked anxiously at him. 

“ And the fine ? How much has Ethel to raise ? ” 

“ Nothing ; what you gave me was amply sufficient, and. 
I have settled the affair for both my daughters.” 

Alice threw her arms around his neck, and tenderly 
kissed him, and Ethel raised his hand to her lips in mute 
gratitude. Mrs. Methurn breathed a silent thanksgiving, 
and then gave her attention to Mr. Digby’s account of the 
interview which had just taken place. 

In the afternoon Mr. Digby gained permission to call on 
Penn, and through his intervention the sentinel was 
removed from his door, and his family were again permitted 
to go forth at their own pleasure. 

On the following morning the carriage was ordered, and 
the whole party drove out to the Priory to look after the 
servants left there. They found the king’s commissioners 
already in possession of the place, and of the domestics 
none remained except the housekeeper and Maud, the 
personal attendant of Mrs. Methurn. The former wished 
to retire from service, and take up her residence with a 
married niece who lived in the village near, but Maud 
gladly prepared to return to Taunton with her mistress. 

After some negotiation, the two ladies were permitted to 
have the furniture belonging to them removed, and a 
pleasant apartment which joined that of Alice was given up 
to Ethel as her own. 

Time passed on, and the bloody assizes with all their 

19 


806 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


horrors came to an end, and the people once more breathed 
freely. Mr. Digby exerted himself with success to obtain 
for Gerald the position of which he had spoken to his 
mother. With the consent of Mr. Clyde the young advo- 
cate removed to Taunton, and assumed his place as junior 
partner in the firm, which now stood as Morton & Methurn. 

A month later the marriage of his mother with Mr. 
Digby took place, and for a season all was serene and 
bright before them. This tranquillity was interrupted by a 
letter from Yernor to Mrs. Digby, which filled her with 
consternation. 

It had been written many weeks before, and confided to 
a countryman, who promised to deliver it in person. Afraid 
to venture into Taunton while the assizes were sitting, lest 
he might be seized on as a suspected character, the man 
retained the letter till all danger was past, and then brought 
it to the person to whom it was addressed. 


CHAPTER XXY. 

Gerald’s prospects brighten. 

The letter from Yernor was written in a state of excite- 
ment bordering on despair, and ran thus : 

“ Aunt Agnes : — I do not write to you in the hope that 
you can help me, for that at this juncture is impossible ; 
but Mr. Digby may interest himself in the fate of the son 
of an old friend so far as to make some efforts to get my 
wretched sentence reversed when the excitement against 
Monmouth’s followers has subsided. 

“ Will you believe that I have been outwitted — completely 


Gerald’s prospects brighten. 307 


baffled by the wretches with whom I dealt in good faith ? I 
put untold thousands in the power of those harpies, and yet 
I am to be sent to the colonies in place of being permitted to 
get away to Holland, as was my expectation. 

“ Jeffreys refused to give me a written guarantee, under 
the pretext that it was irregular, and in my case would be 
useless. My escape was to be connived at, but when we 
gained the sea port from which I expected to embark, I was 
confined with the other prisoners destined for Jamaica, and 
coolly told that I had bargained only for my life. 

“Yes — I, a gentleman — a man of good family, have been 
thrust among the common herd, with the assurance that my 
fate is to be no better than theirs. In short, that I am act- 
ually to be sold as a slave to some brutal West India 
planter. 

“For a few hours I thought I should have gone mad with 
the sense of degradation that fell upon me, but I have in 
some measure recovered the power to think and act. I have 
found the means to write this information to you, for I know 
measures will be taken to conceal my wrongs from the few 
friends I have. 

“ The bearer of this is a man on whom I once conferred 
an obligation which he has not forgotten. He pledges him- 
self to deliver it in person, and on his fidelity I must rely, 
as it is my only chance to communicate with you. Oh ! 
Aunt Agnes, think of my wretched position ; use your best 
efforts to alleviate it, and interest your friend Mr. Digby in 
my cause. I shall die in that unhealthy climate, exposed to 
hardships and toils to which I am unused. If I cannot es- 
cape through your means, I will commit suicide, and my 
blood may rest on those who will not use every effort to res- 
cue me. 

“Only get permission for me to go free, and I pledge my- 
self never to touch English soil again. Accursed land ! that 
dooms its sons to such a fate as has been awarded me. 


308 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ T should have been more wary in my dealings with such 
unprincipled men, but what could I do ? I was utterly in 
tbeir power, with a shameful death looming before me, and I 
depended on their honor to keep the pledges made to me. 
I should have known that Jeffreys does not even understand 
the meaning of the word. 

“Tell Ethel of the strait I am in. Mr. Digby has shown 
much interest in her, and she must have some influence with 
him. Let her use it to the utmost to induce him to move in 
my behalf. If Gerald can help me, I humble myself to ask 
his aid ; anything — anything to get a reversal of this iniqui- 
tous sentence. 

“ I have been pursued even here by a woman and her son, 
who are my deadly enemies, and I cannot rid myself of the 
idea that but for their machinations I might have been per- 
mitted to escape to the continent. Do you remember the 
Gipsy fortune-teller who came to the Priory on that May- 
day, years ago ? It is she, and I have learned that my 
father wronged her in her youth, and she visits his sin on 
me. She has vowed that since her son cannot succeed’ Sir 
Hugh as the eldest born, the child of her rival never shall do 
so. There is nothing now to succeed to, and her enmity 
might be allayed by the recent disasters that have fallen upon 
me, but it is not ; for she has found means to gain access to 
me — to taunt me with my evil fortunes, and to assure me 
that she would have made known even at Whitehall the 
venal compromise of Jeffreys if I had been permitted to 
evade the doom awarded to others far less guilty than I am. 

“ I can write no more ; I have, with great difficulty, suc- 
ceeded in scribbling this almost illegible scrawl, and I must 
watch my opportunity to deliver it to Panton. I trust that 
he will be faithful to his promises ; and remember that if I 
do not within three months hear from you something on 
which to ground a hope of escape, I will take my fate in my 


Gerald’s prospecis brighten. 309 


own hands, for as a slave to the caprices of another man I 
will not live. 

“VeRNOR MeTHURN.” 

Mrs. Digby read this effusion with blanching cheeks and 
quivering lips. She rang and ordered the bearer to be ad- 
mitted into her presence. In a few moments a rough-look- 
ing countryman entered, and she hurriedly asked : 

“ Did you receive this letter from the hands of Mr. Meth- 
urn himself ? ” 

“ Yes, mum. When they was a takin’ him on the vessel 
that the pris’nerS was to sail in, he managed to drop it as he 
passed me. I had promised to help him, for Mr. Methurn 
had once helped me out of a scrape in Amsterdam. I was 
working in the docks there, and got mixed up in a bad affair. 
Two English gents took a interest in me because I was a 
countryman of theirs, and they got a pardon for me from the 
Princess of Orange. Mr. Methurn wa3 one on ’em, and I 
never forgot it. When I found him among the poor devils 
goin’ to Jamaky, I was astonished you may be sure. I con- 
trived to get a few words with him, and he asked me if I 
would bring that letter and give it in your own hands. I 
would have done it sooner but I was afeard to come to this 
place while sich doin’s was a goin’ on as has been done here 
lately.” 

“And my nephew has really been sent to Jamaica? It 
seems incredible, though I have read his letter.” 

“ He’s gone, sure enough, mum ; for 1 saw the vessel sail, 
and a mis’able unchancy thing she was as ever I laid my 
eyes on. Ef she gets to the eend of her v’yage safe I’m no 
judge of water craft. It’s my belief they meant to drown 
the poor cree’ters they didn’t dare to hang.” 

The listener shuddered — she thought it but too probable 
that such was the ruthless intention of those who had taken 
the unhappy prisoners in charge. She faintly asked : 


310 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“And the name of the vessel ? Vernor has omitted that, 
and we must learn it that we may have some clue to his 
actual fate.” 

“The Sally Ann was the name o’ the ship, mum. She 
was a old vessel that haint been considered sea-worthy for 
more’n a year ; but the government chartered it to cross the 
sea at this stormy season ’o the year. It’ll be a miracle if 
she gets to port safe.” 

Mrs. Digby heard him with a sick feeling of apprehen- 
sion. Vernor had never shown much affection for her, but 
she had cherished for him a tender maternal regard, and in 
spite of his wrong-doings — his lack of consideration for 
others, she could not hear of this last calamity without the 
keenest suffering. 

At this moment Mr. Digby came in ; he bowed to the 
stranger with an expression of surprise, and asked : 

“ What has overcome you so much, Agnes ? Have you 
heard any ill news ? ” 

She silently offered him the letter, which he read in evi- 
dent perturbation. He then questioned Panton and drew 
from him the substance of what he had already related to 
his wife. In his heart Mr. Digby believed it would be bet- 
ter for them all if Vernor should be swallowed up in the 
deep, but he was a humane man, and he checked the thought 
as it arose. He said : 

“ I will talk this matter over with you presently, Agnes, 
and we will see what can be done to help Vernor. Come 
with me into my library if you please, Mr. Panton.” 

The two went out together, and when they were alone 
Mr. Digby questioned the stranger on every point that 
could afford him a clearer insight into Vernor’s actual posi- 
tion. But little more could be elicited, and liberally reward- 
ing him for the service he had performed, he dismissed Pan- 
ton and returned to consult with his wife. 


Gerald’s prospects brighten. 311 


He possessed little power himself, but he had friends in 
London who had access to the court, and he did not despair 
of gaining a commutation of the punishment of the hapless 
exile. So far as he knew, no other man of good family had 
been sent to the colonies, and he believed it to he a refine- 
ment of cruelty on the part of Jeffreys to* have secured the 
bribe and violated the pledges he had given. He felt that 
Vernor should have perished sooner than give up men com- 
paratively innocent to be preyed on by the creatures in 
power, but he could not abandon him to the miserable doom 
of captivity in an unhealthy climate without using every 
means in his power to rescue him from it. 

He spoke more hopefully to his wife of the results of his 
efforts than he really felt, and Mrs. Digby wiped away her 
fast falling tears as his words fell soothingly upon her ear. 
She said : 

“ It is now many weeks since that letter was written, 
poor Vernor is languishing in bondage, and looking for news 
to cheer him. I must write without delay, and tell him that 
you will use your utmost efforts to serve him. If he does 
not hear from us he may do something desperate.” 

u Write by all means, and I can certainly get your letter 
sent under cover to the Colonial Secretary, to whom I will 
write myself. Luckily he is an acquaintance of mine, and 
he will make some effort to find Vernor out, and see that he 
gets your letter. You need have no apprehensions on the 
score of his attempting self-destruction ; a man who, like 
Vernor, has sacrificed honor to retain life will scarcely put 
that precious possession in jeopardy by his own act.” 

“Do not speak in that bitter tone,” she entreated. “ Ver- 
nor has done many things to alienate my heart from him ; 
but I have still a tender regard for him, and his evil deeds 
have been bitterly brought home to him.” 

“ True, my love ; and if his present sufferings bring forth 


312 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the fruits of repentance thej will not have been inflicted in 
vain. For your sake, if not for his own, I will serve Yer- 
nor to the utmost extent of my ability. I have no faith in 
him, for he has more than once been weighed in the balance 
and found wanting. But we will let that pass. I will en- 
deavor to gain his pardon on the condition that he remains 
forever an exile, for I never wish to see his face again. It 
will be best to keep his present situation from Ethel ; the 
poor child would grieve herself ill over the misfortunes of 
the wretched scapegrace who has already done her such ir- 
reparable injury.” 

“Yes,” assented Mrs. Digby. “Ethel need know noth- 
ing of it till Yernor is released. It will be best to keep it 
to ourselves.” 

“ I must consult with Gerald. Mr. Clyde may be able to 
aid us ; he has an extensive business connection among the 
nobility, and he would help any one bearing the name of 
Methurn.” 

“ Of course Gerald must be taken into our councils. He 
will write to Mr. Clyde with alacrity. Vernor speaks of 
humbling himself to ask his aid ; bnt I do not know why 
be should regard it in that light. My son will gladly 
serve him.” 

“Can you not comprehend that the integrity and self- 
respect that Gerald has shown in his career have been a 
tacit reproach to his kinsman ? It is not likely that Yer- 
nor has any other feeling toward him than a sore sense of 
inferiority, which does not usually beget affection. If Ger- 
ald had been the heir of the house, the name of Methurn 
would not now be tainted with outlawry ; its honor stained 
by the conduct of its present head. Forgive me, Agnes, 
for speaking thus of one you still regard with affection ; 
but Yernor’s conduct has entirely forfeited my respect. 
Gerald will yet restore the old family to its ancient prestige, 


Gerald’s prospects brighten. 313 


and, if Vernor were out of the way, I should not despair 
of seeing him at some future day the lord of the Priory, 
with the title and estates of his uncle restored to him.” 

“ I have no wish for my son to displace his cousin, nor 
can I see how he can ever recover the estate that has been 
forfeited.” v 

“ There are more ways than one to accomplish that, and 
I have a plan in my mind to bring about that result.” 

She looked at him with surprise, and he went on : 

“For many years I have lived quietly in this place, be- 
cause Alice had the advantages of a good school without 
being separated from me. My income is good, and I have 
laid up a considerable sum of money from it. After set- 
tling the fine levied on me, I find that I still have enough 
left to prevent the Priory from falling into the hands of 
strangers. It was bestowed on a needy courtier, who is in 
want of ready money, and I am already in treaty for its 
purchase. I shall get a good bargain, from which Gerald 
may in the future be the gainer.” 

Mrs. Digby clasped his hand and carried it to her lips. 

“ Ever good — ever thoughtful for others, how shall I 
thank you for this most unexpected kindness?” 

“ Pooh ! it is not much to thank me for, my dear. I do 
not propose to give the property to Gerald. He must work 
and save, and when he is rich enough he shall pay me back 
what I gave for it. In the meantime the income I shall 
derive from the estate will pay me a handsome interest.” 

“ The service will be none the less for that. If Gerald 
can regain his family inheritance by his own efforts, I shall 
feel prouder of it than if it had become his by descent.” 

“ He will do it, Agnes. Gerald works industriously — he 
has will and intelligence, and we shall yet see him mount 
higher than any of his name have done before.” 

“ How happy I am that you appreciate my boy so highly. 


314 the gipsy’s warning. 

The approbation of such a man as you are is worth gain- 
ing.” 

u I am glad you think so, Mrs. Digby ; but if you flatter 
me much more I shall be in danger of becoming conceited. 
Here come the girls ; brighten up your tell-tale face, my love, 
and do not let them suspect the new cause of uneasiness 
Vernor has given us.” 

Ethel and Alice came from a morning walk, the latter as 
blooming as before her illness, and after pausing a few mo- 
ments to listen to their lively chatter, Mr. Digby departed to 
seek Gerald and consult.with him as to the steps to be taken 
to rescue Yernor from his unpleasant state of durance. 

He carried the letter with him, and after perusing it, the 
two gentlemen earnestly discussed the chances of success in 
such an undertaking. Gerald saw all the difficulties in 
the way, but they did not deter him from using his utmost 
efforts to serve his cousin. He wrote to Mr. Clyde without 
delay, and appealed to him to aid the nephew of his old 
friend in this sad crisis of his fate. 

Mr. Clyde knew little of Vernor’s past career ; he was 
filled with sympathy for a young man of good family on 
whom such a calamity had fallen, and he replied to Gerald 
immediately, assuring him that he would use such influence 
as he possessed in Vernor’s behalf. Through some of his 
noble clients he hoped soon to be able to reach the ear of the 
King. 

The letter of Mrs. Digby was dispatched to Jamaica by 
her husband under cover to the Colonial Secretary, and then 
there was a,dreary interval of suspense as to the result of 
their efforts. Mr. Digby had also applied to the friends of 
whom he had spoken, and in reply they promised to make 
an effort in the exile’s behalf when the resentment against 
Monmouth’s followers had sufficiently subsided to afford a 
chance of success to such an application. 


Gerald’s prospects brighten. 315 


The season was unusually stormy, and many nights Mrs. 
Digby lay awake listening to the wind that wailed around 
the house, fancying that in every gust she heard the dying 
shrieks of the unhappy Vernor. Newspapers were then 
scarcely known ; an insignificant sheet called the News Letter 
was issued weekly in London, which came regularly to Mr. 
Digby. On its arrival, the shipping intelligence was eagerly 
scanned for some notice of the arrival of the Sally Ann at 
her place of destination. 

One morning the family were assembled around the break- 
fast table when the mail was brought in. Both Mr. Digby 
and his wife had letters to read which occupied their atten- 
tion, and Ethel took up the small dingy square of paper and 
glanced over it. Suddenly she exclaimed : 

“ Oh this is too dreadful ! ” 

Mrs. Digby laid down her letter, and became slightly 
pale. 

“ What have you there, my dear, that moves you so 
much ? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, aunty, those poor creatures that were sent to the 
colonies have been shipwrecked, and the whole of them 
lost.” 

“ What was the name of the vessel ? ” asked Mr. Digby, 
seeing that his wife was incapable of speaking. 

“ The Sally Ann.” 

Mrs. Digby uttered a cry, and covered her face with her 
hands. Ethel could not account for her emotion, and she 
looked up bewildered. 

“ What is it, aunty, why should you be so much dis- 
tressed ? ” 

“ Oh, child — child — don’t ask me now. Read — read — I 
must hear what is told of this sad disaster.” 

With faltering voice, for, by some electric chain of sym- 
pathy, Mrs. Digby’s agitation had communicated itself to 
her, Ethel read the following paragraph : 


316 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ The ship Sally Ann, on which so many of the political 
prisoners sent into exile were embarked, has gone down 
almost in sight of port, carrying with her every soul on 
board, except her officers, who managed to escape in the 
long boat. We do not intend to say that these men were 
undeserving of the hard fate to which they were condemned, 
but we do say that a most shameful and culpable act has 
been committed by those in authority. 

“The vessel chartered for this purpose was notoriously 
unseaworthy, and the shipwreck so near the coast of Jamaica, 
the escape of the officers alone, give rise to the most un- 
pleasant suspicions that foul play was intended from the 
first. In Grod’s name, if the offenders against the tranquillity 
of the country deserved death, let them bear the penalty as 
human beings, but not to be battened down in a foul hold, 
where disease and death held their revels during a long and 
stormy voyage, to be sent into the depths of the ocean near- 
ly at its close. 

“ It is heart-sickening to think of this great wrong as the 
finale to the dismal tragedy that has been enacted in our 
country during the last four months.” 

" The writer of that is a bold man, and may esteem him- 
self happy if he escapes the vengeance of the government 
for speaking so plainly,” said Mr. Digby, in the hope that 
Ethel’s attention would be drawn from the uncontrolable 
emotion of his wife. She was weeping convulsively, and 
the young girl fixed her eyes upon her with a frightened and 
perplexed expression. Suddenly she arose, approached her 
aunt, and with pale lips faltered : 

“I see it all now. Yernor was among those men. He 
was not permitted to escape to Holland. Oh, aunty, this is 
a terrible blow ! poor — poor Yernor ! would that I could have 
saved him.” 


Gerald’s prospects brighten. 317 


Mrs. Digby clasped her in her arms, and together they 
wept over the fate of the hapless young man. 

Mr. Digby re-read the paragraph, and said in a tone he 
vainly endeavored to render hopeful : 

“ Don’t give up at once. Vernor may have escaped, for I 
scarcely think they would confine him with the humblest 
class of prisoners. I know he is a strong swimmer, and as 
the vessel was near the coast, there may have been a chance 
for him to save his life. But even if he failed to do so, that 
fate is infinitely better than to be sold as a slave to some 
man who might have treated him badly. My dear Ethel, 
do not weep so violently ; you must control your feelings, or 
you will make yourself ill.” 

Ethel struggled to recover calmness, but the many shocks 
she had lately endured at last told upon her delicate frame, 
and in a few hours she was prostrated by severe illness, 
which confined her for many weeks to her couch. 

In her turn, Alice watched beside her, and when she had 
sufficiently recovered to listen with interest, Gerald spent 
every hour he could spare from his business in reading aloud 
to her as had been his habit in earlier days. 

Every effort was made to discover if Vernor had actually 
perished in the shipwreck of the Sally Ann, and before the 
winter passed away confirmation came that he was among 
those left on board the ship ; she had struck upon a ledge 
of rocks, in a few moments went to pieces, and so far as was 
known, not a soul among the prisoners had escaped. 

Insensibly the sad memories connected with Vernor faded 
from the mind of the young sufferer as time passed on, and 
once more Ethel walked the earth with a sense of freedom 
that was delightful to her. She reproached herself with this 
feeling, but the glad consciousness that no bar remained be- 
tween herself and Gerald would make itself felt, and a new 
spring of happiness awoke in her severely tried heart. 


818 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


The shade of sadness which had often been seen on 
Gerald’s brow passed away, and he gave himself up to the 
delightful thought that by the time Ethel was old enough 
to become his wife he would be in a position to claim her as 
his own. 

No word of love passed between them, for she was yet 
too young to be bound by any pledges, but as the years 
went on those two kindred souls were knit together by 
bonds strong as death, lasting as eternity. 

No communication came from Vernor, and finally the 
family settled in the belief that he had shared the fate of 
his companions in exile. The legal proceedings which had 
been contemplated were laid aside, as it was considered 
useless to pursue them when Ethel was already released 
from her bonds by Vernor’s death. 

The Priory had passed into the possession of Mr. Digbj', 
and he assured Gerald that he only held it in trust for him. 
So soon as he was able to repay the purchase money, he 
would restore it to him ; in the meantime he set aside a 
certain portion of the annual income derived from the estate 
as a portion for Ethel ; as he satisfactorily ascertained that 
a large sum from her inheritance had passed into the 
possession of Sir Hugh which had been expended in the 
improvement of the property. 

With this bright prospect before him Gerald labored with 
untiring assiduity in his profession, and won golden opinions 
from all who knew him. His old friend, Mr. Clyde, threw 
much business in his hands, for which he was well paid, 
and his day-dream began to assume tangible shape. 

Ethel was maturing into a lovely and accomplished 
woman, for she sought to render herself a companion for 
him in the days to come, not to be a mere toy for the 
amusement of an idle hour. 

The people of England were still in a restless and dis- 


Gerald’s prospects brighten. 319 


contented state, and the tyrannical rule of James II. was 
slowly maturing the revolution which compelled him to 
abdicate the throne, and the Prince of Orange was made 
king under the title of William III. 

Both Mr. Digby and his stepson took a warm interest in 
public affairs ; they clearly foresaw what the end must be, 
and when the final arrangements were made for the landing 
of William at Torbay, many of the negotiations that 
secretly passed were sent through the agency of Morton & 
Methurn, and the junior partner of the firm twice visited 
the Hague, and was privately received by the Prince of 
Orange. 

William graciously promised that on his accession to the 
throne, as the reward for Gerald’s services, the attainder 
should he removed from the name of Methurn, and the 
family honors and estate be restored to its present repre- 
sentative. 

It was a joyful day for Gerald when the loud-toned bells 
of Taunton rang out their jubilant peal for the accession of 
William, and men congratulated each other that the 
tyranny under which the country had so long groaned was 
at an end. The blood so ruthlessly shed in the rebellion of 
Monmouth, was avenged in the downfall of the Stuarts, 
and James, in his turn, was an exile and a wanderer. 

Gerald’s claims were not forgotten ; and as soon as his 
government was established on a firm footing, William 
redeemed the pledges he had made to him. The Priory 
was purchased of Mr. Digby and presented to him, with 
permission to assume the title which had been borne by his 
uncle. 


820 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

UNEXPECTED NEWS. 

Ethel was now twenty years of age. She was petite in 
person, but exquisitely formed, and her sweet face was 
radiant with health and intelligence. Every obstacle to the 
union of the lovers was seemingly removed, and Gerald 
might now express the feelings that had been long under- 
stood. He lost no time in doing so, and Ethel became his 
plighted bride. 

“ At last you are my own/’ said Gerald, with love-beam- 
ing eyes. “Dearest Ethel, I have toiled for you — waited 
for you as long as Jacob of old for his beloved Rachel. 
Once I thought you were gone from me forever, and I 
cannot tell you how deeply my life was saddened by the 
thought that I had lost you ; that one who must have made 
you wretched had snatched you from me.” 

“ Poor Yernor ! ” she sighed. “ His fate was so sad that 
I forgive him for all the unhappiness he caused us both. I 
was a little simpleton to be flattered into giving him such 
power over my fate; but I declare to you, Gerald, that 
through all that time there was a sore little corner in my 
heart where all your kindness was shut up, for I was afraid 
to open it, and look fairly into it, lest my childish love for 
you should spring out and overshadow that I was in duty 
bound to cherish for Yernor. Yet he did not take much 
pains to make me love him, and I now know that he never 
cared for me.” 

“ No, my darling, charming as you are — precious as you 
are to my heart — there could be no affinity between you 
and my unhappy cousiu. He has gone to his account, poor 
fellow ! and I will say nothing against him ; but if the day 


UNEXPECTED NEWS. 


321 


liad come on which he would have claimed you as his wife 
— if he had treated you unkindly — I believe I should have 
attempted to tear you from him by force. I have always 
felt that I had the best right to you ; now I am convinced 
that a higher power designed us for each other, and after 
severe trial and tribulation it has brought about our 
union.” 

“ I trust so, Gerald. And may that power watch over us, 
and enable us to walk in the path He has appointed to 
us, honorably, truly, and religiously.” 

“ Amen ! ” reverently responded her lover ; and they 
went hand in hand from the shaded garden, in which this 
interview had taken place, to announce their betrothal to 
Mr. Digby and his wife. 

They found them in the library; and Mr. Digby was 
opening a letter, sealed with black, which bad just been 
received. He looked up, saw the young pair who came in 
radiant with happiness, and demanded his blessing on their 
union. Mrs. Digby was already prepared for the announce- 
ment, and she offered her congratulations with tender 
smiles, and fervently embraced Ethel as her daughter. 

“ Bless my soul, young people, you have lost no time in 
settling this affair!” said Mr. Digby, laughing. “Only 
yesterday came Gerald’s promotion to the dignity of the 
baronetcy and estate, and to-day he has found a mistress 
for his house.” 

" The mistress was chosen many years ago, sir ; but till 
now I have had nothing to offer her but my empty hand, 
which I thought scarcely worthy of acceptance. Ethel 
consents to share my good fortune, and if you approve, 
there will be no delay in making her my wife.” 

“ I not only approve, but I give you my warmest wishes 
for the happiness you both deserve. Let the joy bells ring, 
and have the wedding over as soon as the settlements can 
20 


822 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


be made, and the bride’s outfit prepared. You are a noble 
fellow, Gerald, and my little Ethel is a pearl of price, I 
assure you.” 

Alice came in — a brilliant dark damsel, of stately mien, 
and noble presence. She warmly offered her congratulations, 
and Mr. Digby at last remembered the letter he had so long 
held unopened in his hand. He uttered an exclamation of 
surprise, and after reading the communication twice, looked 
seriously at Ethel. 

11 My dear, this letter concerns you, and the news it con- 
tains makes so material a change in your prospects, that I 
scarcely know if Sir Gerald Methurn, with all his newly 
acquired dignities, will be a suitable match for you.” 

Ethel grew pale, flushed deeply, and her clasp tightened 
upon the hand Gerald still held in his own. 

“ 1 am Gerald’s plighted wife, and no change in my pros- 
pects shall make me recede from the pledges I have given 
him. What is it, dear sir? Has another fortune fallen 
unexpectedly to me ? ” 

et It is even so, Ethel ; and more than fortune. You 
are now the representative of your family honors. Your 
uncle is dead ; he has left no child to inherit his estates, and 
you are now Baroness Clifton, of Cliffden. This letter is from 
the family lawyer, and he requests that I will bring you up 
to London as soon as possible, that steps may be taken to 
put you in possession of your inheritance.” 

A bright expression of joy lighted up her face, and turn- 
ing to her lover, she exclaimed : 

“ And Gerald, who sought me portionless, and almost 
dependent, shall have it all. He shall enter parliament, 
where his talents and eloquence will give him fame and posi- 
tion. Here is my hand, Gerald, and with it I joyfully 
endow you with all my honors, such as they are. You will 
make a name beside which that of the proudest Clifton shall 
sink into insignificance.” 


UNEXPECTED NEWS. 


823 


“ Thank you, ray generous love,” he tender^ replied, as 
he pressed her hand to his lips. “ But I am glad this did 
not happen a few weeks earlier, for then I should have hesi- 
tated to ask a lady so richly dowered to become my bride. 
Now we have looked into each other’s hearts, and mere 
worldly distinctions cannot stand between us.” 

“ As if they could ever have done so ! Fie, Gerald ! why 
should you speak thus? Have we not loved each other for 
years ? Have you not always been my best friend ? And 
if this fortune had come as a bar to our union, I would have 
renounced it.” 

“ Bravo, my child ! there speaks the true heart,” said Mr. 
Digby. “ But the marriage must be deferred until you are 
mistress of Cliffden. Then we will have a grand old Eng- 
lish wedding, and all your tenants shall drink to the happi- 
ness of the bride and groom.” 

With some annoyance* Gerald felt that it must be so. 
He had hoped to make Ethel his own in a few weeks at far- 
thest, but now he knew that months must elapse before the 
tedious delays of the law would enable her to establish her- 
self in her new position, and her guardian to have such set- 
tlements prepared as her new dignities demanded. But he 
was too happy to grumble much, especially as it was arrang- 
ed that the whole party should accompany Ethel to London, 
and go from there to Cliffden, where the marriage was to be 
celebrated. 


• 324 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE SHIPWRECK. 

We must now go back to the time of Vernor’s embarka- 
tion on the Sally Ann. 

After the first fury of his disappointment subsided, he 
found means to ingratiate himself with the commander of 
the vessel, for although the common class of prisoners were 
treated with the utmost rigor, Captain Sutton felt some 
compassion for the well-born and gently nurtured man on 
whom so degrading a punishment had been inflicted. Ver- 
nor also loudly proclaimed the fraud which had been prac- 
ticed upon him, and a latent sense of justice in the breast 
of the captain caused him to feel that the treatment he had 
received was unworthy of an English judge, however 
brutal or degraded in character he might be. 

For a few hours Vernor was placed in the dark and noi- 
some hold, which was so crowded with human beings that 
there was not even room for all to lie down at one time. 
Many of the prisoners were already suffering from sickness, 
and before the voyage was half-finished a third of their 
number had perished of privation and confinement. 

When the ship was fairly at sea, the captain sent down 
an order for Vernor Methurn to be brought before him, and 
he gladly followed the messenger, for already he found it 
dfficult to breathe in the fetid atmosphere below. 

Captain Sutton, a bluff, red-faced man, with a stern 
expression, but some kindness of heart, was pacing the 
deck when he came up ; he nodded to his captive and said : 

“ My orders are very strict, Mr. Methurn, and until we 
were out of sight of land I was forced to put you below. 
But now I am master of my own craft, I take on myself 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


325 


the responsibility of removing you from the companionship 
of those poor devils down there. You’re a gentleman, 1 
once knew your father, and I was sorry to see his son 
brought to such a pass as to herd with common felons.” 

“ As to that, captain, those men have only been guilty of 
the same crime which I have committed,” replied Yernor. 
“ But I do not thank you the less for taking compassion on 
me. I could not have lived twenty-four hours in that horri- 
ole den, and it is my belief that the whole lot will perish 
before we reach our destination.” 

The captain shrugged his shoulders. 

‘‘Perhaps even that is better than the fate that awaits 
them at the end of the voyage. I cannot help them ; if 
they were allowed the freedom of the vessel they would rise 
against my crew and overpower us. You see I only confine 
them in self-defence ; but I risk nothing in freeing one man 
from his bondage. When we reach Jamaica I will make 
efforts to place you with a friend of mine, who will treat 
you with consideration. Do you understand accounts 
sufficiently to make yourself useful to a commercial man?” 

“ Yes — I have a good knowledge of them ; for, as you 
already kuow, I acted as secretary to Monmouth.” 

“That is enough; Pedrazza will be glad to secure your 
services, and if you understand French and Spanish, in 
addition to your own language, you will be of inestimable 
service to him.” 

“ I thoroughly understand French, and have some 
knowledge of Spanish. In a few months I can make 
myself master of it, if it is necessary to do so.” 

At that moment Vernor would have promised anything 
to secure the good will of the captain, for he had a vision 
of plantation life, of exposure to the pestilential climate 
which must soon undermine a European constitution ; but 
this was a very different thing. If he could take the place 


826 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


of a clerk in a commercial house, he might possibly gain 
the regard of his master, and in time regain his freedom ; 
though he had many doubts as to his ability to apply him- 
self to the labor that would be required of him. 

The captain nodded and smiled, well pleased at the pros- 
pect of getting a competent clerk for his partner in a snug 
smuggling business, at a trifling cost to them, for the pris- 
oners were not expected to bring more than ten or fifteen 
pounds each to the rapacious man who had doomed them to 
such a fate. 

After exacting from Yernor a promise that he would not 
attempt to communicate with his companions in misfortune, 
he ordered the irons with which his ankles were secured to 
be knocked off, and assigned him a bunk near that of his 
first mate. He dared not invite him to his own table, lest 
his under-officers should grumble at this distinction, which 
was only extended to his first lieutenant, but he furnished 
him with much better food than that which was doled out 
to the other prisoners. 

The voyage proved very tempestuous, and but for skillful 
seamanship the crazy old vessel must have gone to the bot- 
tom long before she did. Yernor suffered little from sea- 
sickness, and when the weather permitted, be daily took 
exercise upon the deck. Thus his strength was preserved, 
and when the Sally Ann drew near Jamaica he felt as well 
as he had ever done in his life. 

Late in the evening of a day that had been comparatively 
calm, light clouds were observed gathering over the horizon, 
and the captain examined them through his weather-glass, 
afraid of one of those sudden squalls to which those tropical 
waters are subject. He ordered every effort to be made to 
gain the port of Kingston before the gale came on, but all 
the exertions of the sailors were unavailing. 

In half an hour the wind had risen to a storm, the 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


327 


wretched craft refused to obey the helm, and she soon 
drifted at the mercy of the waves. She was driven on a 
reef of rocks, and the experienced eye of her commander 
saw that her hour had come, that those who would save 
themselves must lose not a moment in getting away from 
the ill-fated vessel. 

The long boat, the only one save a small cockle-shell 
which was hoisted on the stern of the ship, was hurriedly 
got out, and such articles of value as the captain was most 
anxious to save were thrown into it. The crew, amounting 
to twenty men next crowded in, and Yernor was left stand- 
ing alone upon the deck. The boat was already loaded to 
the water’s edge, and the sailors fiercely refused to permit 
one of the prisoners to endanger their safety by attempting 
to overcrowd it. 

The captain would have made an effort to save him, but 
in that moment of peril he was overruled by his insubordi- 
nate men, and he could only shout back through his speak- 
ing-trumpet : 

“ Cut loose the small boat ; it may keep you from 
drowning, and some vessel may pick you up.” 

His words were lost in the howling of the wind, above 
which arose the wild cries of the imprisoned wretches who 
had been thus abandoned to their fate. Yernor shuddered 
at the howls of despair which made even the raging 
elements seem trifling in comparison with the tornado of 
human passion that surged below. 

“ 1 will at least unclose their prison,” he muttered. 
“ Even if it is done at the risk of my own life.” 

In the dimness of gathering twilight Vernor groped his 
way to the hold, unclosed the entrance, and a crowd of 
ghastly, worn men rushed out, in spite of the manacles that 
confined their lower limbs. But the most of them sunk 
down in despair when they reached the deck and saw the 


828 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


leaden sky, and the roaring waves dashing in foam upon 
the rocky ledge which had wrecked them. 

One powerfully-made man, emaciated almost to a skele- 
ton, managed to keep his footing, and with gleaming eyes 
he drew near Yernor, and asked: 

“Must we die like dogs? Is there no chance to 
escape ? ” 

“ For you and me, perhaps, there may be ; for you have 
nerve to attempt it, but the rest must perish.” 

“ Then point out the way. ■ I have strength enough left 
to help myself, in spite of my long imprisonment in that 
horrible den.” 

“ Come with me, then, and say nothing to the others.” 

With difficulty he made his way to the stern of the 
vessel, closely followed^ by the man. The boat was still in 
its place unimpaired, and a wild laugh burst from the 
prisoner. 

“ Oh, ho ! we’ll balk them yet. The devils that would 
have made slaves of us, and the sea that would swallow us 
up, shall neither of them get their prey. The gale is sub- 
siding, and the boat, slight as it is, will serve our turn till 
some vessel sees us and picks us up.” 

While he was thus speaking he released the boat from its 
fastenings with a practised hand, and then said to Vernor: 

“ Take your place in it, for you are jio seaman ; I was one 
once; and at the last moment, when the timbers of the old 
craft part, I will spring into it and push off from the wreck. 
It will be easy for me to do it, for I have managed to rid 
myself of my irons long ago. Hold fast to the oars, for if 
we lose them we are lost.” 

Yernor obeyed his directions with alacrity, for he saw 
that a few more moments must decide the fate of the ship ; 
and on their nerve and courage their safety must depend. 

The wind lulled almost as rapidly as it had arisen ; but 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


329 


the last blast that passed over the Sally Ann proved her 
death wail. She was lifted by it, and thrown with such 
force against the rocks that the rotten timbers broke apart 
with a crash, and the cry that went up to heaven from the 
drowning creatures within her must have appalled the 
stoutest heart. 

At the critical moment, the companion of Vernor sprang 
into the boat, seized an oar and pushed her clear of the 
wreck. The sea was still fearfully agitated, but there was 
no immediate danger, for the boat, though small, seemed 
strongly built ; but it was a forlorn chance of safety that 
remained to them, thrown thus upon the wide ocean without 
chart or compass; destitute of food, and in the neighbor- 
hood of those who would seize and convey them back to 
captivity if they fell in their power. 

“ We must stop and see if any one rises to the surface/’ 
said Vernor’s companion, hoarsely. “We can save some of 
them perhaps, and I cannot let a man perish when I can 
help him.” 

“ We had better get out of danger ourselves,” said Ver- 
nor. “A sudden clutch upon this shell made by a drowning 
man ma} r overturn it and destroy us all.” 

“True — we will get beyond that danger; but if one 
rises I shall go to him at any risk to myself.” 

While he spoke he used his oar on a comparatively 
smooth surface of water, and then pausing, looked anxiously 
over the rapidly darkening waters. Not a head appeared — 
heavily ironed as they were, how could they rise ? In that 
brief moment near one hundred souls had gone to their 
account, and the dashing waves and sullen winds wailed 
their sad requiem above them. 

With a heavy sigh the man drew his hand across his 
eyes and said : 

“ They are all gone, and maybe they are happier than 


830 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


you and I ; for we may perish of hunger and thirst. Yet 
hard as our fate is, it is better than the other one they 
would have given us. Your name, I know is Methurn, for 
I heard it called the day you were taken from among us, so 
much for being born a gentleman. What was considered 
good enough for us was not considered good enough for you. 
But I shan’t quarrel with you on that score, for you have 
proved yourself a friend to me in my extremity. My name 
is Lithgow.” 

“You speak like an educated man and a gentleman 
yourself,” said Yernor. " Many such have no mercy shown 
them in this rebellion.” 

“ No — I am not what you would call a gentleman. My 
father was a respectable mechanic, and such education as I 
have I have gained by my own efforts, I have been a sailor ; 
afterwards a trader, and I was in a flourishing business 
when Monmouth landed and proclaimed religious freedom. 
My family are dissenters; my brother was a preacher 
among them, and he died in a dungeon for no other crime 
than preaching the gospel as he understood it. A cousin 
shared a similar fate for a less offense, but he was stern and 
uncompromising in his faith. Do you wonder now that I 
took up arms in the cause of the Protestant Duke ? ” 

“ I do not. We can both only regret it, since our efforts 
have resulted so disastrously to ourselves.” 

“ No — I don’t regret it,” was the fierce response. “ If it 
was to do over again I would do it, and there are in Eng- 
land thousands like me who will yet make a successful 
stand against the tyrant that rules them, not as subjects, 
but as slaves. The very cruelties that have been inflicted 
on the followers of Monmouth, will bring forth bitter fruits 
of repentance to James. I only wish we had waited till 
the right man came.” 

u I do not know who he can be.” 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


331 


God knows. He will uphold his cause when the hour 
comes, and, mark my words — it will come. It will surely 
come, for the Lord will not permit the righteous to he 
trampled down forever.’ 7 

While these words were exchanged, the boat had floated 
almost at the mercy of the waves, for the only effort the 
two men made w T as to keep clear of the wreck, and prevent 
her from drifting upon the rocks which had proved fatal to 
the ship. With the fall of the wind the sea became gradu- 
ally calmer, and the parting clouds 'showed glimpses of the 
clear sky with the everlasting stars circling in serene 
majesty above them. 

Vernor looked over the darkening waters with a troubled 
gaze, but his companion raised his eyes to the vast concave 
above, and in lifting his heart to the contemplation of its 
majesty, sought to forget the gnawing pangs of hunger 
from which he had scarcely been free for many days past, 
for the rations doled out to the prisoners were barely suffi- 
cient to sustain life. 

The full tropical moon showed its broad disc above the 
world of waters around them, for by this time they had 
drifted far out to sea ; the only remains of the late storm 
was the heavy ground swell that usually follows a violent 
commotion of the elements, but this gradually subsided, 
and toward midnight Lithgow laid aside the oar with 
which he had steered the boat, and said : 

“ My strength is exhausted, for it is many hours since I 
have eaten anything. I must sleep, and try to forget the 
cravings of hunger. If we are not soon rescued, I shall die 
from inanition.” 

Vernor drew forth a ship biscuit which he had hitherto 
forgotten, and divided it with him. He said : 

“This was a portion of my dinner, and luckily I thrust it 
in my pocket. I think some vessel must overhaul us before 
we are reduced to extremity,” 


332 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ We are in the hands of God, and if He has further work 
for us to do on this earth, He will save us. If not, we shall 
go to Him.” 

Yernor said nothing in reply, and after eagerly devouring 
the small morsel, Lithgow sang one of the hymns familiar 
to the Dissenters, and in spite of his weakness, his fine 
toned voice rang out clear and thrilling over the watery 
waste on which they were drifting. He then prayed aloud 
for deliverance from the perils that surrounded them, and 
ended by saying in devout tones : 

“ Even in this extremity I how to the majesty of thy 
power, oh Lord, and say, in sincerity of heart, 1 not my will, 
but thine he done/ 99 

Yernor listened to this outpouring with more surprise than 
reverence. He could not comprehend the source of this 
man’s submission, and if he had prayed at all he would have 
assaulted Heaven with demands to be rescued from the dan- 
gers that encompassed him. 

When Lithgow lay down, Yernor took charge of the boat, 
and he vainly cast his weary eyes in every direction, in the 
hope that some approaching sail might be seen glittering in 
the moonlight. But morning dawned without so welcome a 
vision arising on his solitary vigil, and as the first beams of 
the sun fell upon the wasted face of his companion, he un- 
closed his eyes, and started up. 

“ Where am I ?” he wildly asked. “ Who are you? and 
what has happened ? Oh ! I remember now. I dreamed 
that I was at home ! a place I shall never, never see again. 
My child was weeping and rejoicing over me, when I awoke 
to find myself a shipwrecked, starving outcast. Oh ! this is 
hard to bear, in spite of my faith in God !” 

He covered his face with his hands, and hot tears rained 
through his trembling fingers. Yernor made no attempt to 
soothe him ; he was in a wretched state of mind himself, and 


THE SHIPWRECK. 


338 


had no sympathy to spare for the woes of another. He 
said : 

“ I must sleep in my turn now. You were more ex- 
hausted than I, for you are weaker, and you labored more 
than I did to get the boat out of danger, therefore it was 
your right to take rest first.” 

“ Sleep in God’s name, and may it refresh and strengthen 
you, since food is denied us.” 

Vernor lay down in the bottom of the boat, and sheltered 
his face as well as he could from the fierce beams of the sun, 
while Lithgow steered, and watched for the appearance of a 
sail. The long hours of the day passed on ; the scorching 
sun poured its ardent rays upon their unsheltered heads, and 
both were glad when it at last sunk into the bosom of the 
sea. 

Another long and dreary night passed they scarcely knew 
how, for the pangs of hunger and thirst had now become 
almost unendurable. Toward dawn Lithgow spoke to his 
companion, in a hollow tone : 

“You are younger and stronger then I am, and you may 
live till some vessel passes and finds you, but I feel that I 
cannot endure much more. Should you be rescued, send to 
my daughter, who lives in Lyme, the news of my death. 
Her name is Jessie; and if you ever return to England, I 
pray you to see her and tell her that my last thought was 
of her.” 

“ I promise to do so ; but a strong man like you should 
not so soon despair. Ho not talk of dying yet.” 

“ Yes — I was strong once, but my late sufferings have 
broken me down. This thirst that consumes me must be 
sated at any cost. I must drink the sea-water, for I can no 
longer refrain, though I know it will produce delirium that 
must end in death.” 

“ But that will be a suicidal act. Since you know the 


334 


THE 


gipsy’s WARNING. 


consequences, you should abstain from gratifying your 
thirst.” 

i( I will still make the effort to do so : like Tantalus, I 
must see the tempting element spread everywhere around 
me, yet not bring it to my parched lips. Oh, [Father! give 
endurance to thy sorely tried disciple.” 

He bowed his head in mute prayer, which was interrupted 
by an exclamation from Yernor : 

" There is a dark object in line with the rising sun which 
must be a vessel.” 

Lithgow started up, shaded his eyes with his hand, and 
looked keenly in the direction indicated. 

“ It is — it is a sail ! We shall yet be saved ! Oh God ! I 
thank thee,” and he fell upon his knees with tears streaming 
from his eyes. 

When he became calmer he drew off his coat, fastened it 
to the oar, and raised it aloft as a signal. The tiny speck on 
the horizon increased gradually in size till the hull of a 
large ship became visible. For half an hour she bore down 
toward them; but, just as their hopes were assuming the 
phase of certainty, she changed her course, and passed so far 
from them that so small an object as the boat was unnoticed 
from her deck. Lithgow sank down, huskily muttering: 

“ It was my last hope ; we are forsaken of God and man. 
Let us resign ourselves to our fate.” 

He drew in his oar, folded his arms, and remained in a 
state of quiet apathy, from which Yernor could not arouse 
him, though he made many feeble efforts to do so, for he 
felt weak and hopeless himself, and began to think it would 
have been better to risk captivity in Jamaica than to perish 
in this miserable manner. 

Another day of inexpressible suffering beneath that torrid 
sun, and at its close Yernor lay in a state of semi-conscious- 
ness, while a fierce delirium had seized on his companion* 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 


335 


In one of its paroxysms, he dipped his cap in the sea and 
drank a long draught of the briny water. This only in- 
creased the raging thirst that was consuming him, and he 
raved more wildly than before of his home — his daughter, 
and the cruel severities to which he had been subjected. 
Suddenly he cried out : 

“ A shark is following in our wake. He has come for his 
prey ; he knows we are doomed. Get up, I say, and help* 
me fight the monster.” 

Vernor made a few feeble efforts to stir, but sunk back 
powerless, and with his last remaining strength Lithgow 
seized the oar and struck at the huge sea-monster. In the 
effort he lost his balance, fell overboard, and sank to rise no 
more. 

The boat drifted through the night, but Vernor was past 
caring what befel himself. He lay unconscious of the flight 
of time, of the drenching dews of night, of the scorching 
rays of the sun. This was the third day he had been with- 
out food, and unless relief speedily came nature could not 
much longer sustain the vital power within his exhausted 
frame. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

TIMELY SUCCOR. 

Lying beside the pier at Kingston was a gaily decorated 
pleasure yacht, from the mast of which a white flag floated. 
The Sylvie belonged to a wealthy planter of Barbadoes, who 
often made excursions in it, accompanied by his daughter, a 
young girl who had been educated in France, and a year 
before this time had returned to the paternal roof in her na- 
tive island. 


386 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


The Sylvie was named fbr its young mistress, who cher- 
ished a passionate fondness for the sea, and enjoyed these 
excursions with a zest peculiar to her vivid temperament. 
M. Menard, her father, was a cold man to others, but he was 
as wax in the hands of the resolute and fearless Sylvie. 

She wished to visit Jamaica, and he came hither, accom- 
panied her to every accessible spot of interest in the island, 
and then remained in Kingston as long as her capricious 
fancy led her to stay. Suddenly she grew weary of the 
place, and orders were issued to have the yacht in readiness 
at an early hour on the following morning. Before the sun 
arose the young creole was on board in the luxurious cabin 
which had been fitted up for her use. But she did not long 
remain below ; fresh and bright as the morning, she ascen- 
ded to the deck to look back upon the island they were leav- 
ing, crowned with the verdant beauty of the tropics, and her 
doting father gazed upon the brilliant loveliness of his daugh- 
ter with wonder and pride. 

Sylvie was tall and stately, with that exquisite symmetry 
of person for which the women Qf mixed blood are noted ; 
for she was the daughter of a quadroon mother and a Eu- 
ropean father, and she inherited the strong passions of the 
two races from which she sprang. 

Her complexion was soft as the leaf of the magnolia blos- 
som, without its creamy fairness ; and a faint tinge of olive 
harmonized with her flashing black eyes and rippling raven 
hair. Her arms and hands were models of beauty, and as 
she moved across the deck her stately presence seemed to 
command the homage of all that looked upon her. 

At the §tern of the little vessel was a sheltered seat pre- 
pared for her use, and sinking upon it with the indolent grace 
of the creole, she commanded a negro girl, who followed her 
steps, to serve her breakfast there, as it was not her pleasure 
to take it in the cabin. 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 


837 


Her father, a thin cadaverous Frenchman, with a dark skin 
which the climate seemed to have tanned almost into leather, 
drew near her and spoke : 

“ Will you let me eat alone then ? ” 

“Not unless you choose, mon pere. This heavenly morn- 
ing must not be wasted below. The sea is as smooth as a 
mirror, and the yacht flies upon her course with scarcely a 
perceptible motion. It will he pleasant to take our morn- 
ing meal in this soft air; the awning will protect us from 
the intrusive rays of the sun. Come, father, order it to be 
spread here — it is my fancy.” 

“ And therefore must be indulged,” he replied, with a 
fond smile. “Well, let it he so ; it will be more agreeable 
here than in the cabin.” 

Sylvie smiled triumphantly, and the order was given in 
accordance with her wishes. A small table was brought up, 
over which a snowy napkin was spread, and upon it was 
placed the usual dejeuner of a Frenchman in the tropics — 
fruits of several varieties, bread and butter, and a bottle of 
claret. 

On this simple but delicious fare the father and daughter 
breakfasted, and the service was removed to give place to 
Mademoiselle’s portfolio, in which she attempted to sketch 
some of the most striking points of the scenery. 

Her efforts did not meet with much success, for she started 
up every few moments to survey the ocean and watch the 
sparkling waves as they broke into foam in their wake. Din- 
ner was served below, and to that she descended, as the sun 
had become unpleasantly warm. Then came her siesta, from 
which she arose as the sun was setting, as a goddess from 
her bath of beauty. She arranged her coquettish toilette as 
carefully as if the critical eyes of strangers were to fall upon 
her, for Sylvie appreciated her marvellous beauty, and took 
the utmost pains to set it off to advantage. 

21 


388 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Her silky hair fell in long glittering curls beneath a scar- 
let bandeau woven through the glossy braids at the back of 
her head with consummate skill ; her dress was of some bril- 
liantly colored material that harmonized with her style, for 
Sylvie was an artiste in dress, and she spared no expense to 
procure the richest fabrics that could be worn in the climate 
of which she was a native. 

When she again joined her father on deck, the long 
line of golden glory which follows a tropical sunset was flush- 
ing the waves with their red and amber hues. Sylvie looked 
with delight upon the wide expanse of water, for her un- 
tamable soul revelled in the sense of freedom felt upon the 
chainless deep. 

Her vision was remarkably keen, and she presently detect- 
ed a dark object floating upon the illuminated waters. She 
pointed it out to her father, who said : 

“ It is only a log, my child, such as Columbus saw when 
he drew near the coast of San Salvador. They are often 
found floating in these waters.” 

Sylvie gave another long look at the object which had 
excited her interest. She presently said : 

“ That is certainly a small boat. I can see the outline of 
it with my naked eye. Borrow Captain Pierre’s glass and 
examine it, I intreat.” 

Her entreaty sounded as a command, and Menard obtain- 
ed the glass at once. He too made out a boat lying at the 
mercy of the waves, but it was out of their course, and he 
was unwilling to make a detour, as he believed to no pur- 
pose. He slowly said : 

“ I see it, but there can be no one in it. It will delay 
our voyage too much to steer toward it.” 

She fixed her eyes almost fiercely upon him : 

“ Fie, father ! how do you know that no one is in it ? We 
had a gale lately, in which we know that at least one vessel 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 


839 


went down, and that boat probably has in it some poor 
wretch rescued from drowning, only to perish of hunger. 
We must go to his assistance.” 

“But there is no signal flying. If the boat is tenanted 
there would be some token by which we should know it.” 

“ The helpless creature in it may be. too weak to put one 
up. He may be watching us now with eager eyes, and half- 
despairing heart. I must see what is in that boat, so order 
the captain to steer toward it.” 

With a gesture of resignation, her father obeyed the im- 
perious mandate, and the course of the yacht was changed 
at once. The young girl, with eager curiosity, leaned over 
the side of the vessel, and watched their approach to the 
object which so vividly interested her. 

When they approached sufficiently near, their speed was 
slackened, a boat was lowered, and two men rowed toward 
the frail craft in which lay the insensible Vernor. They 
grappled the boats together, and in a few moments were 
alongside of the larger vessel. 

The stranger lay quite helpless, and after some delay he 
was lifted to the deck, and carried into the cabin. When 
Sylvie drew near and looked upon his pale face, she uttered 
an expression of dismay and astonishment. She breathlessly 
said : 

“ It is he ! it is the strange cavalier of the cathedral who 
once saved my life ! Oh ! if we had left him to die, I should 
have had some terrible misfortune happen to me. What can 
be done to restore him ? Oh, father ! use all your skill to 
bring back life to him.” 

Menard, who had some knowledge of medicine, as most 
planters have, put her aside, and examined the condition of 
the stranger. He presently said : 

(i His heart beats strongly yet; he is only exhausted by 
exposure and want of food. A little wine will restore him 


340 THE gipsy’s warning. 

to consciousness, and he will soon he able to take nourish- 
ment.” 

Yernor’s locked and rigid lips were forced open, and the 
stimulating liquid soon acted on the vital powers that were 
only dormant. He unclosed his eyes, looked dreamily 
around him, and after a few moments made an effort to as- 
sume a sitting posture. 

“Water — water!” he faintly murmured; “I die of 
thirst ! ” 

A goblet of iced water was held to his parched lips by the 
hands of Sylvie, who snatched it from the attendant that 
brought it, and, weak as he was, a faint flush mounted to 
Vernor’s cheeks as his dimmed eyes fell upon her. There 
was recognition in that glance ; and with a joyful hound of 
her heart, the young Creole whispered to herself : 

“ He remembers me too ; he knows me. Oh ! if I had 
listened to my father, and left him to die of hunger, I should 
have lost the happiness of my life.” 

Poor girl ! she little dreamed of all that was to flow from 
that meeting. How sad was the fate that threw Yernor 
Methurn again upon her life-path. 

Through the efforts of those around him, he was soon 
sufficiently restored to partake of food, which, at first, was 
sparingly furnished to him ; and by the following day Yer- 
nor was well enough to recline on deck, under the awning, 
in company with the planter and his daughter, to whom he 
explained as much of his late adventure as he deemed neces- 
sary. 

He concealed the fact that he had been upon the prison 
ship, and merely stated that in consequence of being impli- 
cated in the late political disturbances in England, he had 
thought it best to leave that country. The vessel on which 
he sailed had been wrecked, and the only companion who 
escaped with him had subsequently fallen overboard in a 
paroxysm of frenzy, and been drowned. 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 341 

Sylvie listened to his narrative with alternate tears and 
smiles. .At its close she said : 

“ All is well that ends well. My debt to you, Monsieur, 
is but half cancelled. We will take you with us to our ver- 
dant isle, and perhaps the exile may there find inducements 
to cast his lot among us.” 

Vernor’s eyes most eloquently said that a very powerful 
inducement was already found, and he replied: 

“ I am now a wanderer upon the face of the earth, and it 
does not- matter much where m3' tent is pitched. You exag- 
gerate the service I was once enabled to render 3 r ou, Made- 
moiselle, but your gratiude is so grateful to me that I can- 
not refuse to accept it.” 

He referred to a casualty which had happened to Sylvie 
during her stay in France. She had accompanied her gover- 
ness to evening mass in the Cathedral of N6tre Dame, to 
which Vernor was attracted b} T the beauty of the music. 
He accidentally caught a glimpse of the radiantly beautiful 
face of the young Creole, and followed her from the church. 
Just as she issued from the door, a carriage dashed toward 
it borne by two powerful and frightened horses. They must 
have trampled her beneath their hoofs in their wild career, 
had not Vernor rushed forward and snatched her almost 
from under their feet and borne her half fainting into the 
cathedral. 

When she recovered from her fright sufficiently to speak, 
she thanked him with a freedom and eloquence which a 
young French girl would have been afraid to express, and, 
as he gazed on her vivid beauty, Vernor felt that the ideal 
of his fancy was embodied in this passionate and enchanting 
girl. But he remembered the ties that already bound him : 
and when she asked his name that she might embalm it in 
her orisons to Heaven, he merely said : 

“ I am called Vernor. I am only a traveller, and I came 

J 


342 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


hither to listen to the music, which I was assured is finer 
than that which is heard in Rome.” 

They parted after a few more words had been exchanged, 
for the elder lady soon ended a colloquy in which she thought 
her young companion had demonstrated her exuberant grat- 
itude rather too freely. As they parted, Sylvie whispered a 
request for his address, which was promptly given ; and a 
few days afterwards a small package was delivered at his 
lodgings, which, on opening, he jbund to contain an exquis- 
itely painted miniature of the young girl he had saved, richly 
set in brilliants. A tiny note, written in a delicate, lady- 
like hand, accompanied it, in which he read these words : 

" Monsieur : — I send you the likeness of her you have 
saved from death, or mutilation — the last, in my estimation, 
infinitely worse than the first — that you may not forget my 
features. The precise code of manners which regulates 
young girls in this country I do not subscribe to, for, thank 
Heaven ! I come from a land where more freedom is toler- 
ated. 

“ I am of tropical birth, and I am the spoiled darling of 
a wealthy man. Should fate ever lead you to Barbadoes 
inquire for Sylvie Menard, and every return which grati- 
tude such as mine can render will be freely yours.” 

Yernor mused over this letter, gazed upon the brilliant 
face which accompanied it, recalled the stately grace of her 
form, the thrilling tones of her voice, and in his heart he 
execrated the bonds that bound him to Ethel. But for them 
he might have won this enchanting creature, who, in that 
brief interview, had more nearly touched his egotistical 
heart than any other woman he had ever seen. 

Had he known where to seek her he would have made an 
effort to see her again, and during the few days of his stay 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 


843 


in Paris he regularly attended mass at H6tre Dame in the 
hope of meeting her again. But her governess had proba- 
bly foreseen this ruse, and Sylvie’s religious devotions were 
performed at another shrine. 

Vernor carried with him the tiny case which held her 
miniature, and in all his subsequent wanderings it had never 
left him. When his garments had been examined in 
prison he had managed to conceal it in the meshes of his 
long hair, and the first time he was left alone with Sylvie 
he drew it from his breast and said : 

“ See how faithfully I have preserved this precious pos- 
session. It has been constantly worn next my heart as a 
talisman against evil.” 

“I regret that it had not more potent power,” she replied, 
with flushed cheeks and glittering eyes; “ for you seem to 
have been the sport of fortune since we last met.” 

“True — yet this blessed reunion could not have taken 
place but for those misfortunes. I recognize in them the 
power of fate in bringing together those who are destined 
to make earth a paradise to each other.” 

These words were breathed in low, earnest tones, and he 
looked eagerly upon her face to mark what impression they 
produced. Sylvie’s eyes were not lowered beneath the pas- 
sionate power of his. She looked searchiugly into his with 
her dazzling orbs, and slowly said : 

“ It is too early to come to that conclusion yet. Fate is 
strong, but will is sometimes stronger, and I have one that 
has never yet been curbed. Should you prove all I have 
fancied you to be, then — perhaps — But here comes my 
father to put an end to a conversation which, at present, 
can lead to nothing.” 

Menard paused as he was approaching them, to speak 
with one of the sailors, and Vernor spoke in low bitter 
tones : 


344 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ I am aware that it is a great presumption in a ruined, 
shipwrecked stranger, who is thrown upon your bounty, to 
address you thus. Pardon me, Mademoiselle, my feelings 
hurried me away ; but I will transgress no more.” 

She quickly replied : 

“ You willfully misunderstand me. My father is partic- 
ular in some things, and at this early stage of our acquain- 
tance he would not approve of — of — such conversation. 
You will become our honored guest ; he will do all that lies 
in his power to place you in a position to restore your 
fortunes. Let us only be friends till you have won his 
confidence. Then ” 

She paused, and flashed her brilliant smile upon him as 
Menard joined them, and Vernor silently accepted the duty 
she assigned him. 

He used his best efforts to gain the good opinion of the 
old Frenchman, and with his usual tact he soon succeeded. 
He spoke French fluently, and the heart of the planter was 
soon won by his praises of la grande nation , for Menard’s 
national vanity was as great as if he had never forsaken his 
native land to seek his fortunes in the colonies. 

The yacht came safely to anchor in a small cove . situated 
near Menard’s plantation, and a group of negroes were 
already in waiting with a palankeen to convey their young 
mistress to the house, which was about half a mile distant, 
on an elevation that overlooked the sea. 

To Vernor, after his long absence from land, the tropical 
verdure and luxuriance of the vegetation were charming, 
and with the joyful elasticity of his temperament he 
bounded on shore, and walked lightly forward with Menard. 

They approached the house through a winding avenue of 
orange trees loaded with blossoms and fruit, and the air was 
filled with the perfume of the delicate white flowers which 
peeped from the shining green foliage. Bellevue was 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 


845 


named from the fine prospect it commanded of the sea ; it 
was a long, low plantation house, irregularly built, with a 
latticed piazza extending the whole length of the front, 
over which wild jasmine and roses were trained in arches 
of verdant beauty. 

A wide hall opened from the piazza, from which the 
different apartments were entered. The furniture was light 
and tasteful, and had been carefully selected with reference 
to the warm climate in which it was to be used. A ham- 
mock of sea-grass was suspended midway between the two 
doors of the hall, near which was an inlaid table, on which 
a lady’s basket and some loose music were placed. The 
last was evidently appropriated by Sylvie, but the first was 
for the siesta of her father, for only in the hammock can 
one find repose during the heat of a tropical day. 

As the} 7 entered the house, Menard warmly grasped the 
hand of Yernor, and welcomed him to its hospitality. He 
said : 

“ I am not a man of many words, Mr. Yernor, but I am 
glad of an opportunity to prove to you that I am not 
ungrateful for the service you once rendered my child. We 
will talk of business after you have been with us long 
enough to feel at home ; perhaps I can then suggest to you 
something that you will like.” 

Yernor thanked him, and followed a sable page to the 
room already prepared for his use. Sylvie, in a fresh toilette, 
appeared at the supper table, which was spread on a wide 
sheltered gallery in the rear of the house, and the attendant 
nymphs had exercised their utmost skill to adorn the board 
in honor of her arrival. Every dish was wreathed with 
flowers, and an immense bouquet adorned the centre of the 
table. 

Sylvie did the honors with bewitching grace, and when 
supper was over, she took occasion to welcome their guest to 
his future home. Yernor replied with a smile : 


346 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING 


“ Ifc is a fair home, hut I have no claims upon it beyond 
a few days of tolerance beneath its roof. I must seek some 
means of gaining a living, unused as I am to do anything 
useful.” 

“Oh, my father has settled all that,” she replied with 
animation. “He will open his plans to you as soon as you 
are ready to listen to him.” 

“ The sooner he does so the better for me — for I shall be 
glad of any employment that will retain me near this 
enchanting paradise over which reigns an Eve who might 
rival our first mother in attractiveness.” 

“That is a very gallant speech, and I reward it by telling 
you that you will have the option to remain with us, or to 
seek employment elsewhere.” 

“ You cannot doubt my choice,” he significantly said, 
and he followed M. Menard to the piazza, on which he was 
established with his pipe. In the conversation that ensued, 
the planter unfolded a scheme he had to retain Vernor near 
him, which he was only too happy to accept. 

For many years a nephew of the old man had resided at 
Bellevue, as agent for the plantations owned by his uncle. 
But Basil Menard had fallen desperately in love with his 
cousin, and at last, frightened by his violence at her refusal 
to marry him, Sylvie had insisted that her father should 
dismiss him from his service. It had been the business of 
Basil to purchase supplies for the places, keep the accounts, 
and look after the overseer who had the blacks in charge. 

This vacant berth Vernor’s new friend proposed to bestow 
on him, with a salary proportioned rather to his friendship 
for him, than to the actual services demanded. Basil had 
gone they knew not whither, and the burden of business 
which Menard had borne several weeks was becoming 
excessively tiresome to him. When Vernor had expressed 
his grateful acceptance of a post he thought he might fill 
with respectable ability, the planter said : 


TIMELY SUCCOR. 


347 


"It’s all settled, then. Don’t talk about feeling, and all 
that nonsense. The work can be easily done, and the pay 
is good. You can go to Bridgetown to-morrow, and get a 
new outfit. Here is a quarter’s salary in advance, and I 
will give you an order on my merchant for the plantation 
supplies.” 

He returned to the indulgence of his pipe, and Yernor 
strolled to the farther end of the piazza and joined Sylvie. 
Hour by hour his passion for her gained strength, and 
before it every restraint of principle vanished. The ties 
that fettered him would, he doubted not, be dissolved by the 
efforts of Ethel’s friends to render her free, and love and 
fortune moved him to the acceptance of a brighter fate than 
he had lately hoped would ever be his. 

Expatriated, impoverished as he was, he saw that this 
beautiful and nobly dowered girl would be his if he asked 
her hand, and he had no prejudices to overcome concerning 
the current of dark blood that mingled in her veins with 
the sanguine tide of her paternal race. She was lovely, 
intelligent and loving, and Yernor’s heart went forth to 
meet hers with a passionate ardor he had not believed him- 
self capable of feeling. 

For the first time in his life he felt a genuine affection for 
some human being beside himself, and the coquettish* wiles 
which nature taught the young creole, only added to the 
flame her bewildering attractions had inspired. 

Menard was not quick of apprehension, and the destiny 
of his daughter was settled in those dreamy weeks which 
followed her return to Bellevue, while her unsuspecting 
father smoked his pipe, or lounged the hours away in his 
hammock, for the vivacious Frenchman had completely 
adopted the indolent habits of the people among whom he 
had so long lived. 


848 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

THE WEDDING. 

When Menard began to comprehend what had so long 
been going on before his eyes, he passed through many 
phases of feeling. He was amazed, bewildered, and lastly 
furious that this penniless stranger should aspise to the hand 
of his daughter. It was a pet scheme of his to return to 
Prance at the close of the following year, taking Sylvie 
with him ; and there, with her beauty and fortune, she 
might make a brilliant alliance. He thought her pride had 
led her to refuse his nephew, and he had not dreamed that a 
man without either home or fortune could ever render him- 
self acceptable to her. 

Menard was a man of quick temper and but little per- 
severance ; yet on this provocation his wrath was so great 
that his daughter began to fear it would assume the form 
of obstinacy. She used all her wiles — tried every art of 
persuasion without effect ; but when he threatened to kick 
her presumptuous lover out of doors, the fire that lay 
smouldering within her blazed forth. With flashing eyes 
and curling lip, she said : 

“ Do so, Monsieur, if you will ; but know that I shall go 
with him as his wife. Since you will not listen to reason, I 
shall take my fate in my own hands.” 

“ Go, then, ungrateful that you are ! Leave your old and 
doting father for the specious stranger, who has abused my 
hospitality by secretly winning the affections of my child. 
Live with him in poverty and obscurity, for I will give you 
nothing.” 

" You will surrender to me the estate of my mother which 
the law gives to me,” she haughtily replied. “ I am well 


THE WEDDING. 


349 


aware, Monsieur, that the greater portion of the wealth you 
claim was derived from my maternal grandfather, and you 
cannot alienate it from me.” 

This was a fact of which Menard had lost sight in his bit- 
ter wrath. When he came a poor adventurer to Barbadoes, 
the wealth of Antoine Ledru had tempted him to take his 
quadroon daughter as his wife, and at least half of his pre- 
sent estate belonged legitimately to her child. 

“ So — you would also strip me of my fortune,” he scream- 
ed, “and give it to this vagabond, who will dissipate it, no 
doubt, and probably break you heart.” 

“ I will take that risk,” she resolutely replied. “ I have 
faith in my betrothed. He is a gentleman by birth, and a 
man of noble and refined feeling.” 

“ Refined foolery ! He has turned your head with his sen- 
timental nonsense, and } 7 ou are ready to throw yourself away 
in this absurd manner. You ! for whom I had planned so 
different a destiny. Listen to me, Sylvie ; I have hoarded 
money to enable me to live in princely splendor in my native 
land. I will return to France, purchase an estate, and give 
you a palace in Paris. You shall have everything that 
heart can desire if you will only give up this degrading 
marriage.” 

Her lip curled contemptuously. 

“ M'y heart desires but one thing, and that is the love you 
bid me repudiate. I have no wish to live in Paris ; — I pre- 
fer the wild freedom of my native island to the trammels of 
fashionable life. Make up your mind to this marriage, 
father, for I have set my heart upon it, and you know that I 
am not used to bend my will to that of another.” 

“Yes,” he feebly groaned, “I have permitted you to do 
as you please, till I have no longer any control over you. If 
you will stoop so low as to marry my agent, why did you 
not take Basil ? He was my nephew, and your fortune 
could at least have benefitted my own family.” 


850 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


u Because I did not love him, and I do love M. Vernor.” 

Menard walked up and down the long hall in which this 
conversation took place during the absence of Vernor. He 
tore his hair, performed a frantic dance, and finally resorted 
to his pipe and his hammock for consolation. 

When he grew calmer, Sylvie approached him and spoke 
with the defiant pride that characterized her : 

" When my betrothed returns, treat him with the respect 
that is due to him and to me. If you insult him by express- 
ing your opposition to our union as freely as you have done 
to me, I will seek another home. I will go to the Ledru 
place, which belongs to me, and take up my abode with old 
Cecile till my marriage can take place.” 

Menard looked helplessly at her; his rage had exhausted 
itself, and he felt himself at the mercy of his determined 
adversary. He gloomily muttered : 

“ Since you will have it so, I must give my consent, I sup- 
pose. But you really know nothing of this young man. 
He may not be what he represents himself; he may have 
been exiled for a worse offence than a political one. Oh ! 
Sylvie, do not break my heart by making an unhappy mar- 
riage.” 

“ I believe implicitly what he has told me, and I will marry 
him or no other,” was the firm response. “ Such is my con- 
fidence in him that I will endow him, without reservation, 
with all I possess.” 

The old man clasped his hands despairingly, and the re- 
bellious daughter swept away to her own apartment with 
the triumphant consciousness of victory. 

Menard knew it to be useless to struggle against her 
determination, and he resigned himself to what he felt to 
be inevitable with the best grace he could assume. He 
adored his daughter, and he trembled at her threat to leave 
him if he persisted in his opposition. 


THE WEDDING. 


351 


With outward respect, but internal distrust Yernor was 
received as his future son-in-law, and the homeless exile 
found himself the prospective possessor of a lovely wife dow- 
ered with at least a hundred thousand pounds, the half of 
which would become his on the day Of their union. 

He did not pause to ask himself if time had been given 
to sever his former bonds. His lot was cast in this far away 
place, in an island subject to a foreign power, and it was 
not likely that any one should stray from his former home 
who could betray the treachery of which he had been guilty. 
At the worst, if this should happen, he could legalize his 
union with Sylvie by a second ceremony when the divorce 
between himself and Ethel was pronounced. With this 
sophistry he silenced the few scruples that arose, and gave 
himself up to the joy of loving and being loved with an ardor 
seldom equalled. He was passionately enamored of his 
beautiful fiancee, and she demonstrated her attachment to 
him with a freedom unknown to women of a colder clime. 

This frankness charmed Vernor, and riveted the chains 
in which she held him even more firmly than before. A 
few delicious weeks of happiness passed away on wings of 
light, and the bridal day drew near. The wedding was to 
be private ; a priest was to come from the neighboring town 
to perform the ceremony, and the lovers were to make a 
bridal excursion in the yacht to the Island of Cuba. 

On the evening before their marriage, Yernor and his 
betrothed stood together on the piazza looking out upon 
the moonlit sea, and discussing their future plans. Sud- 
denly Sylvie asked : 

“ Have you never loved before, mon bien dime ? ” 

il Never; you are the only woman I have ever cared to 
make my wife. My first and only love is yours.” 

“ It is well that it is so, for I am terribly jealous. I warn 
you that you must be devoted and faithful to me alone, or I 


352 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


know not what may happen. I have trusted you implicitly; 
if you betray that trust, woe be unto you.” 

He laughed a little uneasily. 

“ Why, my angel, how tragic you are ! Pray don’t try 
to make me afraid of the yoke I am about to assume. I 
adore you — I shall never care for another. Does not that 
assurance satisfy your exacting heart ? ” 

She regarded him with eyes brimming with tears, for a 
sudden dread had fallen on her, and a faint premonition of 
the fate she was preparing for herself, came as a cloud over 
the brightness of her happiness. She mournfully said : 

“ It should — it must. But to-morrow you assume a fear- 
ful responsibility. I am wayward, passionate, and capable 
of the direst revenge, if I find I have been deceived or out- 
raged in any manner. You came to us a stranger, and I 
have trusted you with the life of my life. Oh ! Yernor, if 
you prove unworthy of my confidence, our fate will be a 
fearful one ! ” 

A cold thrill penetrated his heart as he listened to her 
words, and he felt his cheek paling beneath her glance. 
With great effort he repeated : 

U 0ur fate ; since you unite us in one common doom, my 
Sylvie, I can brave it, let it be what it may. Even to die 
with you, my best-beloved, is better than to live for any 
other woman ; and to gain the happiness of making you 
mine, I will risk even that.” 

The shadow passed from her brow, and she whispered: 

11 Only love me thus forever, forever, and I ask no more.” 

With his consummate tact Yernor said everything that 
could allay the passing cloud, and the deceived and hapless 
girl went to her room with a heart almost oppressed with 
its ineffable sense of happiness. 

A brilliant morning dawned on the island lJome of M. 
Menard. At an early hour the house was astir, and the 


THE WEDDING. 


858 


yacht, gaily decorated with streamers in honor of the occa- 
sion, lay in the cove below the house. The priest had passed 
the night at Bellevue, and a few intimate friends were 
invited to witness the marriage. 

With but few misgivings, which were quickly silenced, 
Yernor prepared for the ceremony which was to give him a 
second wife before the first was legally separated from him. 
He believed that Sylvie would never learn the treachery of 
which she was about to be made the victim, and he knew 
himself so little as to imagine that he could always remain 
contented iu the sylvan paradise into which he had come as 
the serpent of old came into the garden of Eden. He fan- 
cied that his passion for Sylvie would be as lasting as life 
itself; that it could reconcile him to the seclusion which 
was so foreign to his habits for many years past. 

Two months had elapsed since he came to Barbadoes, and 
time had flown by on rapid wings, but he forgot that he had 
been occupied with an engrossing passion, and when the 
zest of that should pass away as the sparkle from the wine, 
his restless nature would seek some new avenue <$f enjoy- 
ment probably inconsistent with the serene happiness of 
domestic life. 

Let the future betide what it might, Vernor was ready to 
risk all where he was to gain so much, and when Sylvie 
came forth radiant with love and happiness, he exultingly 
clasped her willing hand and drew her before the man of 
God. 

The ceremony was soon performed, and Vernor led his 
bride to the head of the table on which a magnificent de- 
jeuner was spread. The poor old father endeavored to look 
happy and pleased, but it was a dismal effort at cheerfulness, 
for he vaguely mistrusted this stranger who had won his 
child from him, and he dreaded what the future might 
bring forth. 

22 


354 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


The planter was not to accompany the newly wedded 
pair upon their tour. He declared himself unable to leave 
home at this crisis, and to the great satisfaction of the 
young couple they were to enjoy their happiness uninter- 
rupted by his gloomy presence. 

Breakfast over, the whole party prepared to accompany 
the bridal pair to the yacht. As they issued from the house 
a fierce-looking man of fine proportions, and much mascu- 
line beauty of person, was crossing the lawn with rapid 
steps. His brow was stern and his lips compressed as he 
advanced directly toward Sylvie. She met his eyes with a 
haughty expression of surprise and exclaimed : 

“ Basil ! What brings you hither now, and where have 
you been so long ? ” 

“You have not found it long it seems,” he said, speaking 
through his closed teeth, “ for in the interval you have 
given me a rival. Is it true, Sylvie Menard, that you have 
bestowed your hand on the man who stands beside you?” 

“ I have- — and what concern is it of yours?” 

“It should be much, for you are of my blood, and dear to 
me. You have preferred the stranger known to you but a 
few brief weeks, when the love of years was scorned. Look 
to it that he does not repay you with a broken heart. You 
know not who he is, or whence he came ; his race is not 
ours, and perfidy is the birthright of his nation. Oh, 
Sylvie ! you have doomed me to despair in thus throwing 
yourself away ! ” 

Her eyes flashed, and she was about to make a bitter 
retort, when Yernor spoke: 

“ Monsieur, this lady is now my wife, and such language 
with reference either to myself or my country I will not 
tolerate. Stand aside, and let us pass upon our way.” 

Basil glared on him a moment, and then slowly said : 

“I will make it. the business of my life to find out who 




THE WEDDING. 


355 


and what you are, who have imposed yourself on an old 
man and an inexperienced girl. You have won their confi- 
dence, and torn from me the hopes of my life. Pass on, M. 
Anglais, but I am on your track, and if you prove unworthy 
of the good fortune you have won — beware ! ” 

In spite of his efforts to control himself, Vernor became 
deadly pale at the utterance of this threat. He raised his 
hand menacingly, to which Basil replied by a gesture of 
contempt, and the priest stepped between them. He spoke 
soothingly to the excited intruder: 

“ Come with me, Basil. Your disappointment has made 
you unreasonable. With the consent of her father, Sylvie 
is the wife of M. Vernor, and any attempt to injure her 
husband can only render her unhappy. You will think 
better of this idle menace.” 

“ Perhaps so, Father Pierre; but it moves him strangely. 
See how he changes color.” 

“If I do,” replied Vernor, defiantly, “it is with indigna- 
tion at this outrage. But I can forgive you, M. Basil, since 
I have succeeded where you have failed. Good day ; seek out 
my antecedents, if you choose, and make the most of them. 
You will find little food for your malice in so doing.” 

He drew the band of Sylvie beneath his arm, and proudly 
strode away, followed by all the party save the priest and 
Basil. Menard whispered a few words in the ear of the 
latter, and then joined the procession to the yacht. 

In another hour the little vessel glided from the cove, 
with every sail set, bearing two happy and exulting hearts 
within her. If poor Sylvie’s dream was brief, it was en- 
trancing, and she gave herself up to her new-found happi- 
ness with a child-like abandon that rendered her more 
enchanting than ever to Vernor. He cast aside the 
momentary uneasiness produced by Basil’s threat, for he 
believed that under his change of name he could safely 


356 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


defy a stranger and a foreigner to trace his family in his 
native land, or to identify him as the husband of another 
woman. 

The weather was charming, and the fairy bark sailed over 
smooth seas lighted at night by a tropical moon, and the 
days passed all too swiftly away to the two who were all the 
world to each other. Sylvie wished they could thus sail on 
forever ; they reached Cuba after a delightful voyage, and 
after spending a week in Havana, went into the interior of 
the island and explored some of its most romantic recesses. 
Their trip back was without accident, and after an absence 
of tw r o months Yernor and his bride again landed in safety 
at Bellevue. 

Yernor had been apprehensive that he should find Basil 
there installed as superintendent in his place, but the 
young creole had refused the place which his uncle had 
again offered him : he could not live in the same house with 
Sylvie, and see her daily as the wife of another. He stated 
to Menard that, with a little assistance, he could establish 
himself in a lucrative business in the island of St. Croix, 
and the old man, as a panacea to his wounded heart, 
advanced the sum he required, but with a positive under- 
standing with his nephew that no portion of it was to be 
devoted to the threatened visit to England. 

Since his daughter had married this stranger, Menard 
wished no efforts to be made to bring discord between her- 
self and her husband. If Yernor had been guilty of wrong- 
doing, it was best that Sylvie should never be made aware 
of it, and Basil pledged himself not to act on the threat he 
had made ; but in his heart was a deep-seated feeling of 
rancor toward his rival, and he held himself in readiness to 
strike a blow at him whenever the opportunity should 


arrive. 


THE FLIGHT. 


357 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE FLIGHT. 

With a rapid pen we must now sketch the life of Vernor 
and Sylvie for the next four years. For a few months he 
was passionately devoted to her, but her exacting temper, 
her unreasonable jealousy if he showed even ordinary atten- 
tion to the young girls who occasionally visited at Bellevue, 
gradually alienated him. He soon felt that he was becom- 
ing a slave to the caprices of an imperious woman, and he 
openly rebelled against the thraldom to which he had 
willingly submitted in the early days of their union. 

Stormy days ensued, usually ending in a reconciliation, and 
for a brief season, the renewal of their former tenderness ; 
but each one cooled the ardor of Vernor’s attachment, till, 
with the natural inconstancy of his temperament, he almost 
regretted the fate which had thrown him on the path of his 
divine Sylvie. 

He forgot all he owed to her, and at moments even 
secretly exulted in the thought that, in all probability, the 
tie that bound him to her was not legal. S}dvie’s attach- 
ment, on the contrary, seemed to gain strength with every 
passing day. His coldness provoked her jealousy and her 
fears, but it had no power to change the devoted love which 
she had bestowed upon him. 

She tormented him, she tyrannized over him, but she 
adored him; and he began dimly to comprehend that the 
words she uttered on the night previous to their union 
would be acted on if the provocation were given. 

New causes of discord soon arose. Vernor wearied of the 
monotony of plantation life. He no longer had any busi- 
ness to occupy him, as he considered it beneath bis dignity 


358 


THE GIPSY'S WARNING. 


to act as agent since he had married the heiress, and a sub- 
stitute was found. He strayed away to Bridgtown, and 
sometimes prolonged his absence several days in the con- 
genial company of the dissipated young men of wealth in 
the vicinity who found time hang heavily upon their hands. 
They established a race -course, patronized a gambling 
saloon, at which Vernor lost heavily, and, worse than all, he 
frequently returned to his wife in a state of oblivion as to 
what had happened to him. 

Sylvie wept over him, nursed him tenderly through his 
fits of intoxication, and then stormed at him for so degrad- 
ing himself. At first he replied with equal fire, but gradu- 
ally he listened with apathy to her reproaches, and sat 
unmoved by her tears. 

That portion of her fortune which Menard had surren- 
dered to him was rapidly melting away in his hands, and 
the old planter saw with dismay the hoards he had accumu- 
lated by years of industry, scattered by the careless hand 
of a prodigal. 

He beheld his worst fears confirmed : his daughter was not 
happy in her ill-omened union, and if Vernor was permitted 
to go on in this reckless way she would be ruined: Yet 
when he ventured to speak with Sylvie on this subject she 
declared with vehemence that what was hers also belonged 
to the man she loved, and he was free to do with it as 
he pleased — even to squander it in vices and follies, which 
must in time disgust him, and he would yet return to her 
with the loving heart he had once plighted to her. 

Her father cherished no such hope, but he refrained from 
urging her to a course of action which would certainly pro- 
duce an open rupture, for the old man began bitterly to feel 
that the wealth of his daughter had been as great a tempta- 
tion to Vernor to marry her as her own attractions. 

Had Sylvie’s children lived, she might have been more 


THE FLIGHT. 


359 


anxious for the preservation of her property, but of the two 
that were born in the first three years of their union, both 
died a few hours after their birth, and these successive 
afflictions only added strength to her attachment to their 
father. She clung to him with that blind, passionate ardor 
which was the gift of her temperament and her race ; Ver- 
nor was her world — her all, and life without him would be 
worthless, wretched as he bad often made it. 

The revolution in England which placed William III. on 
the throne, had taken place many months before it was 
known in Barbadoes, for at that day intercourse between the 
continent of Europe and the colonies was much less frequent 
than now. 

One morning after a scene of passionate recrimination 
between Vernor and Sylvie, he bitterly said : 

“You will force me to leave you at last, for I will not 
stand the life you lead me.” 

He rushed out, mounted his horse, and rode rapidly in the 
direction of Bridgtown, leaving her filled with remorse and 
terror lest he should excute his threat. 

When he reached the town, he found that a French ship 
had entered the port, and there seemed to be great commo- 
tion at the news she brought. Vernor heard with joy that 
the Prince of Orange was now King of England, and he 
thought with triumph that he might now return to his native 
land, and possibly regain his inheritance. Under a new 
ruler the adherents of' Mon mouth would not be severely dealt 
with, and with that hardness of nature that springs from a 
long course of self-indulgence, he scarcely gave a thought to 
the hapless woman who had given him her all, yet whom he 
was ready to offer up as a sacrifice to his own aggrandize- 
ment. 

Sylvie had ceased to be attractive to him. She annoyed 
and tormented him, and if he could reclaim his title and es- 


360 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


tates, he would find means to evade her in such a manner as 
to leave no clue by which she could trace him. Deeply re- 
volving these possibilities in his busy brain, Vernor wander- 
ed from the crowd, and slowly walked toward the place of 
usual rendezvous for himself and his friends. Suddenly he 
was startled by a voice exclaiming close beside him : 

“ Hillo, Methurn ! can this possibly be you, alive and 
well? I thought you had gone down among the mermaids 
long ago ! ” 

Vernor raised his startled eyes, and recognized a young 
Frenchman with whom he had been on intimate terms while 
travelling in Europe. He grasped the hand of his former 
friend, and said : 

“I am glad to meet you again, Bertrand, hut do not call 
me by that name, if you please. I am known here by my 
baptismal one alone, for reasons you can well understand. 
Come with me to a place where we can speak in private, 
and I will tell you of my strange adventures since we last 
met.” 

u I am at your service, old fellow, for I am travelling for 
amusement, and have nothing particular to attend to. It is 
a perfect godsend to meet with an old friend in this out of 
the way place. The news came to me that you had been 
lost in the prison ship in which you were transported. A 
most infamous sentence too it was against a gentleman ; but 
the old tyrant that ruled England has been well paid for all 
that.” 

“ I am glad both on his account and my own, that James ' 
Stuart has met with his deserts. I can now go back with 
safety, and claim my own.” 

“ There’s not much chance of the last, I am afraid. You 
have not, then, heard from your family in all these years ? 
Yet how should you, for they are all firmly persuaded of 
your death.” 


THE FLIGHT. 


361 


“I have taken no pains to let them know that I am still 
living. Those I left behind me cared as little to hear from 
me as I from them” 

11 So you really have given up that pretty baroness, with 
her fine fortune, to j T our lucky cousin ? I am just from 
England, where I sought the acquaintance of Sir Gerald 
Methurn, that I might inquire if anything had ever been 
heard from you. He and his betrothed bride were in Lon- 
don, preparing for the wedding, which is to come off at Cliff- 
den at Christmas.” 

Vernor flushed and then grew pale. He faltered : 

“ What do you mean ? Has my cousin assumed the title 
which belongs to me? And Ethel — has she really become 
the heiress of her family estates ? ” 

“ She is now Lady Clifton, and your cousin served the 
new King so well in many ways that your father’s property 
has been restored to him with permission to assume the title. 
Of course he believed you had perished, as every one else 
did.” 

This was a stunning blow to Vernor, and after a pause of 
confused thought, he hoarsely asked: 

“ Do you know if any legal steps were taken to dissolve 
the marriage between Ethel and myself?” 

“ Ah, I had forgotten that you were really married to her. 
Ho divorce was demanded, for the news of your death ren- 
dered it superfluous. If I were in your place I would return 
to France on the ship that brought me out, travel from there 
to England as fast as possible, put an end to the wedding 
preparations, and claim the bonniest bride in all Britain.” 

“ But I have ties here that it will be difficult to break ! ” 

tl What ! you have found a chere amie ? That is bad, for 
these tropical women are the d — 1 for jealousy, and some- 
times they are capable of doing terrible things.” 

Vernor felt this himself, and after conducting Bertrand 


362 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


to a cabaret be frequented, and entering a private room, be 
there, under the strictest seal of secresy, unfolded to him the 
exact position in which he stood. The Frenchman listened 
with deep interest, and at the close of the narration, said : 

“ It is lucky that your true name is unknown here ; but I 
reverse my former advice. Since you love this beautiful 
creole, stay where fate has cast you, and give up the uncer- 
tain chances of success if you should return to England. 
Lady Clifton may refuse to return to her allegiance to you ; 
and besides, your present wife might follow you, and have 
you prosecuted for bigamy.” 

“ She could not do that. She knows nothing of my for- 
mer life, and as Mr. Yernor she could never trace me.” 

“ But I understand you to say that you are attached to 
her. She is rich, you said, and beautiful ; and from my own 
observation, I can assure you that the fair Baroness is so 
much in love with your cousin, that she will not readily con- 
sent to be claimed by you.” 

Yernor ground his teeth in silent rage at this suggestion. 
That Gerald, who in his heart he had always considered 
socially his inferior ; for whom he had for years cherished a 
deep-seated dislike, because his industry and honorable course 
had been a reproach to himself ; that he could have achieved 
such good fortune, was a bitter humiliation. 

Bertrand was a giddy Frenchman, with little sympathy 
and less principle ; but he had a keen eye to interest, and in 
his subsequent conversations with Yernor he dwelt on the 
advantages of not sacrificing a certain good for an uncertain 
chance, and Yernor was almost persuaded to remain satisfied 
with his present position. 

When the stranger visited Bellevue and saw Sylvie, he 
gave it as his decided opinion that his friend would be mad 
to forsake such a woman, for in her anger and despair she 
would be capable of taking any vengeance upon him. 


THE FLIGHT. 


368 


Bertrand departed for a neighboring island, leaving Ver- 
nor to brood over the revelations he had made, and his dis- 
satisfaction hourly increased. Sylvie’s fortune was almost 
exhausted, and he knew that Menard would never permit 
him to encroach on his. The planter’s health had failed him 
greatly within the last few months, and Vernor speculated 
on the chance of his speedy death. 

If the old man were removed, the wealth Sylvie must 
inherit would be a fair equivalent for that he relinquished 
with the hand of Ethel : if he lived much longer his posi- 
tion would become unendurable to one of his temper and 
habits. 

A few mornings after the departure of Bertrand, Menard 
was found dead in his bed, and Vernor made up his mind to 
remain on the island. But when the will was opened, its 
contents reduced his son-in-law to such a state of depend- 
ence upon Sylvie, that he was resolute to risk everything 
sooner than remain with her on such terms. 

The whole estate was irrevocably settled on Sylvie ; 
trustees were appointed to manage it, and to pay over to 
her a quarterly allowance, which was amply sufficient to 
enable her to live in the style to which she had been accus- 
tomed, but not to furnish Vernor with the large sums he 
was in the habit of squandering. If she violated the con- 
ditions of the will, the estate was to go to Basil Menard, as 
the next of kin, and a small annuity was to be paid to 
Sylvie. 

The papers of the deceased planter showed that he had 
already paid over to his son-in-law every penny to which 
Sylvie was legally entitled as the heiress of her mother ; 
and the property he had accumulated by his own thrift was 
his to dispose of as he pleased. 

There was no possibility of evading the settlement thus 
made, and after an interview with Sylvie, in which he pas- 


364 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


sionatelv accused her of having instigated her father to the 
course he had pursued, that he might be entirely dependent 
upon herself, Yernor left the house in a paroxysm of rage, 
which soon terminated in the firm resolve to leave Barba- 
does at all hazards, and return to Europe in the French ship 
which was still in port, receiving a cargo of sugar for Bor- 
deaux. 

His arrangements were secretly made, and under cover 
of night, he went on board of the ship, a few hours before 
she set sail. A letter for Sylvie was left behind him. It 
was received on the following day, and read with emotions 
of despair and anger it would be vain to attempt to portray. 
This heartless and cruel effusion ran thus : 

“ Barbados, Nov. 30, 1689. 

“Sylvie: — We can no longer be happy together; we 
are not suited to each other, and the caprices of your vio- 
lent temper have alienated the love I have felt for you. I 
do not deny that I once adored you with passionate fervor 
—you know that I did — and you can measure the extent of 
my infatuation when I tell you that it tempted me to commit 
a great wrong against you. 

“ Sylvie, forgive me, for when I made you mine I was 
already the husband of another. My bride was but a child, 
and I had never claimed her, but family reasons gave her 
my hand years before we met. In extenuation of my crime 
against you, I must state that I believed legal measures 
had been taken after my exile to release my first wife from 
her bonds ; but I have lately learned that it was not so. 
The tie that binds us together is as a rope of sand, for it is 
not now even strengthened by love on my part. I will not 
say whose fault this is, for I have often been to blame 
myself, but if you will recall your violence, your jealousy, 
and the many bitter words that have passed between us, 


THE FLIGHT. 


365 


you will comprehend that I am but too willing to avail my- 
self of the chance that offers itself to escape from your 
imperious thraldom. 

“A new king reigns in England, and it will be safe for 
me to return there. It will be useless for you to follow me, 
for you can never trace me. You have never known my 
true name, nor the position I once held. Be reasonable, if 
you can ; give up a man to whom no legal tie binds you, 
and seek that happiness with another which you have failed 
to find with me. 

“ If it had been possible for us to live together in peace, 
this should never have been made known to you, for I do 
not love the bride to whom I am now returning. No — you, 
and you alone, have I ever loved, and if that knowledge 
can console you, let it do so. I shall never love another, 
but I can find in ambition a substitute for that evanescent 
passion. 

lt Adieu, Sylvie, for on this side of the grave we shall 
meet no more. “Vernor.” 

When the first paroxysm of Sylvie’s despair subsided, an 
intense and burning desire for revenge upon him who had 
so cruelly wronged her took possession of her wild heart. 
Just at this crisis, when she was revolving her plans, and 
seeking in her own mind for some one to assist her in carry- 
ing them out, Basil arrived. He had heard of his uncle’s 
declining health, and came to visit him. The news of his 
death, and Sylvie’s abandonment by her supposed husband, 
reached him as soon as he landed, and he hurried to Belle- 
vue to offer such assistance as she might stand in need of. 

When he was admitted into her presence, he was shocked 
at the change in her appearance. He recalled the radiant 
being he had last seen in the flush of her exulting happi- 
ness, and compared her with the wan woman before him, 


366 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


with the fires of despair and incipient insanity blazing in 
her large, black eyes. 

She pointed to a seat, and spoke in a hollow tone : 

“ You have been sent hither to aid me, Basil, when you 
were most wanted. Keep the vow you made that fatal day 
—seek the treacherous deceiver through the world, help me 
to bring him to justice for his inexpiable wrong toward me, 
and ask your own reward.” 

He slowly said : 

. “ Would you give me yourself, Sylvie ? ” 

“ If you still value the wreck I have become I will do 
even that, if you will help me to vengeance on him . Oh ! 
Basil, my heart is broken, my brain is going wild. Let us 
follow him at once ; we shall find a clue — I know we shall.” 

“ Yes — I am sure of that ; for such wickedness as this 
will never be suffered to go unpunished. You must take 
something to compose you, Sylvie. You are in danger of 
an attack of fever, and that would not advance our plans. 
I swear fidelity to you ; I will go with you on this quest, 
and never leave you till I find and punish him we both 
have such cause to loathe.” 

She took his hand between her burning ones, and fever- 
ishly asked : 

“ When shall we set out ? We must lose no time, for I 
cannot bear an hour’s delay. Is there any ship in port for 
France ? ” 

“No — but there is the yacht. We can sail to Jamaica 
on her, and there we shall be sure to find an English bark. 
We may yet outstrip Vernor in reaching his native land.” 

“Lose no time, then? in making the necessary arrange- 
ments for our voyage. Get money from my merchant, and 
have all ready by to-morrow if it is possible to do so.” 

Basil promised to do his best, and he returned to Bridg- 
town, having first ordered the captain of the yacht to sail 


MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY. 867 


there for the stores necessary to be taken in. The little 
vessel had been kept in order, and many excursions had 
been made in her by Sylvie since her marriage, so there was 
no delay in getting her ready for sea. 

On the second morning after Vernor’s departure, she set 
sail for Jamaica, with the two cousins on board; and if 
anything could have aggravated the wretchedness of Sylvie, 
it was being confined to the same vessel which had been as 
a fairy paradise to her in that blissful bridal trip with him 
she was now ready to sacrifice to the brooding spirit of 
revenge which had taken possession of her heart. 

They reached Jamaica in safety; found there an English 
ship bound for Liverpool, on which a passage was immedi- 
ately secured. The voyage proved tempestuous ; the ship 
was driven from her course, and was finally wrecked upon 
the coast near Lyme. The passengers and crew were 
rescued; Menard also succeeded in saving the money he 
had brought with him, and the two strangers, bound on 
such a quest, did not find themselves destitute upon a 
foreign shore. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY. 

After a prosperous voyage, Yernor reached Bordeaux, 
and immediately sought the means of reaching England. 
He found a smuggling craft bound for Lyme, the captain 
of which proved to be an old acquaintance. The man 
recognized him at once, and knowing that he had nothing 
to fear from one who had often purchased contraband goods 
of him in other days, he readily consented to receive him as 
a passenger. 


368 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Captain Edson confirmed the information which Bertrand 
had given him, and informed him that the Priory had been 
put in thorough repair, and refurnished for the reception of 
the new proprietor and his bride. 

Yernor ground his teeth with rage at the thought that his 
estate and his bride were in the possession of his cousin, and 
he exulted in the thought of the dismay he was about to 
spread among the happy hearts assembled at Cliffden. 

After a stormy passage the lugger came in sight of the 
broken and precipitous coast on which Lyme is situated ; 
Yernor recalled the charge given him by Lithgow on the 
night before his death, and he inquired of the captain if he 
knew of such a person in the town as his daughter. Edson 
readily replied : 

“Oh, yes — I know Jessie Lithgow well, and a nice, 
industrious girl she is. She has a house on the main street, 
in which she keeps a haberdasher’s shop, and the upper 
rooms she rents to lodgers.” 

“ So much the better ; that will exactly suit me, for I do 
not care to go to the public house lest my arrival should be 
prematurely made known to him who has appropriated my 
inheritance, and who may attempt to have me thrown in 
prison for returning to England without a formal pardon.” 

“Then you cannot do better than to take lodgings with 
Jessie Lithgow. She is discreet and quiet, and does not 
talk of her lodgers.” 

Vernor had brought with him a considerable sum of 
money, and he had already formed his plan of action. A 
small boat landed him on the pier which had witnessed the 
descent of Monmouth, and he made his way into the town, 
for the place had been familiar to him from boyhood. 

Night had fallen, but a bright moon was shining, and 
following the directions the captain of the lugger had given 
him, he had no difficulty in finding the place he sought. A 


MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY. 369 


light was burning in the shop, and after tapping twice upon 
the door, a slender, fair-haired woman of pleasing appear- 
ance unclosed it, holding a candle in her hand. 

u Does Miss Lithgow live here ? ” asked Vernor. “ 1 
was directed to seek lodgings with her.” 

“ I am Jessie Lithgow, and I let lodgings ; but my rooms 
are all occupied at present. You had better go to the pub- 
lic house, which is only a little further down the street.” 

“ Permit me to enter a few moments, if you please. I 
am the bearer of a message from one you have loved, and 
after hearing it I think you will not refuse to shelter me.” 

His manner was courteous, and his address that of a 
gentleman. Jessie scanned his face, and in some perturba- 
tion replied : 

“ Come in, sir. If you bring me the news I have long 
yearned to hear, I shall bless you indeed.” 

He entered, and closing the door behind him, Jessie led 
the way into the back room. This was comfortably fitted 
up, and a bright fire was burning in the grate, over which 
the tea-kettle was singing. When Yernor was seated she 
stood before him with an expression of eager solicitude upon 
her face, and asked : 

li Is it of my wronged and ruined father that you would 
speak ? He is all I have ever had to love. Oh, sir, can 
you tell me anything of him ? I have lived for years Jn the 
hope that he might have escaped — that he might return to 
me yet, though others assured me that he must have per- 
ished in that dreadful shipwreck.” 

“ He did not then perish. He escaped with me, but sub- 
sequently lost his life.” 

She uttered a cry, and covered her face with her hands. 
Yernor went on : 

u I was a prisoner in the same ship, doomed to the same 
fate, but when the vessel went down, the seamanship of 
23 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


870 

your father enabled him to clear a small boat from the 
wreck, in which he and I made our escape. He told me of 
you, and in his last moments entreated me to see and inform 
you of his fate if I ever touched English soil again. I 
lauded here to-night, and sought you out at once.” 

‘‘'And after all his sufferings, he died when he might have 
escaped the cruel fate awarded him,” she cried, in heart- 
rending tones. “ Oh, my father ! my poor lost father ! ” 

Vernor waited till her emotion had in a measure subsided. 
When she grew calmer she questioned him till every minu- 
tiae connected with those dreadful days upon the sea was in 
her possession. She wept bitterly during the recital, but 
the duties of hospitality reminded her that the stranger had 
probably had no supper, and she set herself about preparing 
it. She said : 

“ I comprehend, sir, that it might be dangerous for you to 
go to the inn. If you were among Monmouth’s men you 
might be recognized here by some of the people, and evil 
might come of it. You were my father’s friend when he most 
needed one, and I will put myself to some inconvenience to 
shelter you. There is a small room adjoining this that I 
use as a lumber closet, and if you will put up with such 
accommodations, I can make you a comfortable bed in there, 
and you can sit in this room in the day-time.” 

Vernor thanked her, and added : 

“ I only require a night’s lodging, for I shall leave this 
place with the dawn.” 

The simple supper, to which she added a mutton-chop for 
her guest, was soon placed upon the table, and Vernor did 
ample justice to it. Jessie could not eat, for tears still at 
intervals streamed silently over her face. 

After putting aside the tea things, she prepared a couch 
for him in the closet of which she had spoken, to which he 
was glad to retire, bu‘t she sat over the fire till a late hour, 
thinking over the news she had heard. 


MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY. 3T1 


It was ten o’clock, when a tap came upon her window, 
and wiping away the traces of her tears, she unclosed it and 
spoke with a man standing without. 

“ You are up late,” said a deep-toned voice. “ May I 
come in a few moments ? ” 

“It is too late, Melchoir ; your mother will be sitting up 
for you, and you had better go to her room.” 

“ Let her wait awhile. I must speak with you. What 
has become of the man I saw come into your shop two 
hours ago ? I have been on the watch for him to come out, 
for he was a suspicious-looking stranger that landed from 
the smuggling craft the revenue officers have been lately 
watching for. Your rooms are all occupied I know, then 
what have you done with him ?” 

In much perturbation, she replied : 

“ I found a place for him ; pray go away now and leave 
me alone.’* 

“ You’ve been crying. I never knew you to cry before, 
and I must find out what is the cause of your tears. Let 
me in, I insist, for I must fathom this mystery. Remember, 
I have the right to know why you harbor this stranger.” 

The man who thus spoke was the betrothed husband of 
Jessie Lithgow, and she dared not refuse his demand. She 
knew him to be impetuous and jealous of temper, and she 
feared even more than she loved him. 

In trembling silence she unclosed the door, and the stal- 
wart form of Melchoir stood within the room. He glanced 
around with knit brows and said : 

“ So-o — you gave this stranger supper too. He must have 
had some claim upon you ; he is from foreign parts, and per- 
haps he brought you some news of the old man. You have 
always said you would hear from him, though I did not 
believe you would. If it is ‘so, you had better tell me at 
once. I too have had a vague belief that one I have no 


372 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


cause to love survived that wreck, and will yet come back 
to meet his fate. But he was young and strong, and there 
was something in that stranger’s air to-night that strangely 
reminded me of him.” 

Jessie scarcely listened to the last words. She whis- 
pered : 

“ Speak lower, Melchoir. Since I must tell you, I have 
heard from my poor father — It was a sad story and that is 
why I wept. He escaped from the wreck of the Sally Ann, 
and he who is in that room was his companion. Father could 
not survive the hardships he had endured ; but the younger 
man was picked up, and his life saved by those who found 
him.” 

The listener uttered a quick exclamation. He breath- 
lessly asked : 

“ What is the age of this man ? His hight — his com- 
plexion ? ” 

“ He is tall and well formed, with light blue eyes and gold- 
en hair, which he wears long like the Cavaliers. He seemed 
about thirty.” 

“’Tishe,” he breathed through his closed teeth. “His 
air — his walk were familiar to me, and I have not watched 
all these years in vain.” 

He asked, in an excited tone : 

“ And his name ? What does he call himself?” 

“ I did not ask it, nor did he offer to reveal it.” 

“ It does not matter. I know it , and that is enough for 
my purpose. Good night, Jessie ; I will keep you up no 
longer. I have learned all it concerns me to know.” 

He strode from the room, and she sat down wondering 
why Melchoir should take such an interest in the stranger ; 
but she soon recurred to the train of thought his entrance 
had interrupted. 

When Jessie Lithgow was left homeless by the raid made 


MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY. 373 


tipon the property of even the humblest of Monmouth’s fol- 
lowers, she had been assisted by Melchoir to purchase the 
house owned by her father, when it was sold fora tithe of its 
value. 

The Gipsy and his mother came to Lyme and took up 
their abode ; they concealed their origin, and, with the money 
they received for the betrayal of Yernor, Melchoir engaged 
in a smuggling trade which proved very lucrative. He met 
with the fair-haired daughter of Lithgow, and fell desper- 
ately in love with her ; but she did not encourage his pas- 
sion till a series of obligations awoke a grateful regard in 
her bosom. 

In addition to the purchase of her house, he advanced a 
sufficient sum to enable her to commence her present busi- 
ness, which soon prospered in her hands sufficiently to repay 
the loans he had made. Melchoir unwillingly received the 
money, for he wished the debt to be cancelled in a different 
way. For years Jessie refused to listen to his pleadings ; 
but finally the lonely girl wearied of the solitary life she led ; 
the constant love that was offered her became attractive to 
her desolate heart, and she consented to become his wife. 

But an inexplicable.feeling of dread induced her to post- 
pone their marriage from time to time till her lover’s pa- 
tience was almost exhausted. He became jealous of every 
man that approached her, and being on the pier that even- 
ing watching for the arrival of the smuggling craft, he over- 
heard the directions given to Yernor to the house of his 
betrothed. 

The lugger put out a private signal, and went on to a 
cove above the place where her contraband articles could be 
safely landed, and without stopping to speak with the boat- 
man, the Gipsy followed the stranger into the town. He 
imperfectly heard the conversation at the door of Jessie’s 
shop, and watched and waited for Yernor to come forth. 


374 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


When two hours passed away and he did not do so, his 
suspicious jealousy was aroused, and he went to the rear of 
the building and demanded admittance, as we have seen. 

When he left Jessie, he sprang up a dark stairway, threw 
open a door from which a bright light issued, and burst into 
the apartment of his mother. Minchen sat in a large arm- 
chair in front of the fire, dressed in the plain dark garb of 
a woman of respectable station ; but her strongly marked 
face had lost none of its early fire ; her wiry form little of 
its elasticity. 

Her present inactive life wore upon her spirits ; but, with 
the ambition of her life disappointed in failing to make her 
son the heir of his father, she bore with apathy whatever 
might happen to her. She turned her eyes on her son and 
sharply said : 

“ You promised to return at eight; it is now past ten, and 
I have been alone all the evening.” 

“ When you h$ar what I have been doing you will easily 
forgive me. Have I not always said that he would come 
back ? That the sea had not swallowed him up ? You 
asserted yourself that such was not to be his fate.” 

Her large eyes dilated, and she breathlessly asked : 

u What do you mean ? Has Yernor really returned ? ” 

" He has — he is asleep in this house now, and I will have 
him seized as a returned convict before he can get away. I 
came up to tell you first, but I must away to the authorities 
and have him arrested.” 

“ Stop and tell me how it happened before you go. You 
have the night before you, for he will hardly attempt to 
leave before day.” 

Thus urged, Melchoir paused long enough to give her an 
account of what had become known to him through his 
betrothed. Minchen listened eagerly, and then slowly said : 

“ It was an evil chance that brought him here at this time. 


MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERY. 375 


He has, doubtless, heard that his cousin has succeeded to the 
estate and is about to marry Lady Clifton. He will brave 
everything to prevent the marriage; but we have him in our 
power. Will it not be better, Melchoir, to take him secretly 
and convey him to that chamber we both know of? We 
could keep him there till he would listen to any terms to pur- 
chase his freedom.” 

Melchoir mused a moment and then said : 

“ That is a good idea, and 1 wonder I had not thought of 
it myself. My men would aid me to seize him as he sleeps, 
and once safe out of the town with him, I could manage him 
myself. A ride of a few hours would bring us to the Priory, 
and I could keep him there an age without any of the family 
becoming aware of it.” 

u We owe something to the new baronet, for he has given 
me back my annuity since he learned the claim we had 
upon his uncle ; and if we can serve him, and at the same 
time punish Vernor for his insolence to you, it will be the 
best thing we can do.” 

“But, mother, the marriage will not be valid while Ver- 
nor lives, for no divorce has been granted. We can shut 
him up, but that will not answer Sir Gerald’s purpose.” 

“ No — but it gives us time to warn him, and he can take 
immediate steps to release the poor girl Vernor comes to 
make miserable again.” 

" Yes — I will seek him as soon as my captive is safe. Ho ! 
ho ! this revenge will be better than taking his life. I’ll 
keep him in darkness and solitude till he’ll be glad to hum- 
ble himself before me, and crouch like a dog for freedom to 
look upon the light of day again.” 

After some further conversation, Melchoir left the house 
to seek those he wished to aid him in his proposed enterprise. 
He had several hardy and desperate men in his employ- 
ment, whose habitual disregard of the laws fitted them for 


376 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the service he was about to require of them. He offered 
them a high price to assist him, and they did not pause to 
inquire who was to be made prisoner, nor why Melchoir 
wished to get him in his power. 

A closely-covered cart, a pair of hand-cuffs, and a gag 
were provided ; the former was stationed in the outskirts of 
the town, ready to receive the captive, and Melchoir with 
his companions stealthily approached the house of Jessie 
Lithgow. 

He was familiar with every portion of it, and he knew 
that a window loosely fastened with boards opened on the 
yard from the room in which Vernor slept. With the dex- 
terity of a professional house-breaker, he removed these 
almost without noise, and stepped into the room. 

A ray of moonlight fell upon the bed, and he saw that it 
was empty ! He felt the clothing to see if his enemy had 
overheard his attempts to enter and fled from it ; but it was 
cold, and had evidently been deserted some time before. 

Unwilling to alarm Jessie unnecessarily, he again stepped 
out and gave whispered directions to his followers to guard 
every avenue of escape from the house, and he took up his 
watch at the front door. 

At length daylight glimmered in the east, and there were 
no signs of Vernor. Grinding his teeth with rage, Melchoir 
knocked at the door, which in a few moments was opened 
by Jessie. She regarded him with astonishment, while he 
fiercely asked : 

“ Where is the stranger who came hither last night ? ” 

“ He has not left his room yet. Why do you wish to see 
him?” 

“ That is my business. I will come in and seek him.” 

“I will call him myself,” replied Jessie, moving toward 
the room in which she believed her lodger to be still sleep- 
ing. No response was made to her knock ; and Melchoir, 


MELCHOIR MAKES A DISCOVERT. 37T 


who had closely followed her, threw the door open, revealing 
the empty bed. He regarded her sternly : 

“ Where have you concealed him ? ” 

She trembled as she replied : 

“ Upon my honor, I thought he was still here. I do not 
know what can have become of him.” 

Though frightened at the strange disappearance of her 
guest, Melchoir knew Jessie well enough to see that she 
spoke the truth. He dashed into the shop ; every nook was 
explored in vain ; there was no trace of him they sought. 

Determined not to be thus baffled, Melchoir proclaimed 
aloud in the streets that an escaped convict was in the town, 
and called on the people to assist in arresting him. A crowd 
was soon collected, but without any result. Yernor was 
nowhere to be found ; and Melchior returned home in a rage 
to inform his mother of what had happened, and warn her 
that he should immediately set out for Cliifden, to inform 
Gerald of the arrival of his kinsman in England. 

Cliffden was but twenty miles distant, and the Gipsy 
knew that the family had arrived there several weeks before 
to celebrate the nuptials of the heiress with Sir Gerald 
Methurn. 

Ignorant of the part the mother and son had played in 
the arrest of his cousin, when Minchen appealed to him to 
continue the annuity Sir Hugh had allowed her, Gerald 
granted it as a measure of simple justice, and he thus gain- 
ed from these lawless beings a grateful sense of obligation, 
which was as keenly felt as the baleful spirit of hatred that 
actuated them toward Yernor. 


378 


THE GIPSY'S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK. 

While all this was going on in Lyme, Vernor made good 
his escape from the town. He was not a heavy sleeper, and 
the sound of a man’s voice aroused him from his first slum- 
ber. He listened eagerly, and Melchoir spoke in so ungard- 
ed a manner that he heard much of the conversation through 
the thin partition. He arose softly, peered through a crevice 
in the door, and saw the form of a man heavily muffled, 
with his hat still drawn far over his brow. He did not re- 
cognize his old enemy, but he heard enough to assure him 
that he was in danger of detention by the jealous lover of 
Jessie Lithgow. This would interfere so materially with his 
plans, that he instantly made up his mind to depart without 
the knowledge of his hostess. 

With painful suspense he watched for the termination of 
the interview ; when Melchoir departed, Jessie retired to 
her couch, which stood in a recess in the room, concealed by 
heavy curtains that fell to the floor. Vernor listened till 
everything was quiet ; the faint glimmer of the dying fire 
still lighted the apartment, and he stepped cautiously across 
the floor, unclosed the door that opened into the shop, and 
shutting it carefully after himself, made his way to the front 
entrance. 

This was easy to do, as the upper half of the partition 
door was of glass, and the light that reflected through it was 
sufficient to guide him in the neat little shop where nothing 
was left out of place. Leaving a piece of money on the 
counter, he turned the lock of the outer door, and bounded 
into the street. 

In a few moments he had gained the outskirts of the 


THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK. 379 


town, and he made his way on foot to a small hamlet which 
lay a few miles distant. Late as it was, he found lodgings 
in the house of a small farmer, and on the following morning 
purchased from him a horse, on which he set out for Cliffden, 
to reclaim his long-deserted bride, and force her to return to 
her allegiance to him. 

With a heart filled with many evil passions, he spurred 
his steed over hill and valley, but he was mounted on a 
miserable hack that stumbled at nearly every step ; the day 
proved stormy and cold, and night had long fallen before he 
came in the vicinity of the place he sought. 

We must leave him and return to Lyme, where events 
were transpiring of which he little dreamed. At an early 
hour of the morning the gathering clouds portended a fearful 
strife of the elements, and by ten o’clock it burst in a wild 
tempest that soon lashed the sea into foam, and dashed the 
impetuous waves upon the precipitous shore in deep-toned 
reverberations. 

At the hight of the storm a ship was seen driving help- 
lessly toward the rock-bound coast, and amid the wild wail- 
ings of the wind minute guns were at intervals heard. The 
hardy fishermen who frequented the coast gathered under 
the shelter of the cliffs, and awaited the moment when a lull 
in the gale would permit them to go to the assistance of those 
in such dire extremity. 

The ship drove onward with reckless speed, evidently at 
the mercy of the winds and waves. She struck upon a reef 
of rocks which extended outside of the harbor, and for two 
hours lay there, those within her expecting every moment to 
find a watery grave. 

At length there was a slight lull in the tempest, and boats 
were got ready and manned to go to the assistance of those on 
board. It was a work of much difficulty and danger to ap- 
proach the wreck in such a sea, but the practised seamen 


380 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


who undertook to do so were daring and skillful, and they 
finally succeeded in bringing the passengers and crew in 
safety to the shore. 

The only pa'ssengers were a gentleman and lady, the lat- 
ter of whom seemed suffering in mind and body. Her com- 
panion, who spoke English imperfectly, inquired if a quiet 
place could be found for her where she could rest and recruit 
her strength for a few days. The man to whom he applied 
said : 

“ If Jessie Lithgow can take her in, the lady will be bet- 
ter cared for there than at the inn. We can stop there, at 
all events, and see if she has a £pare room.” 

“ Money is no object, ” said the stranger; “we will pay 
doubly for private accommodations just now.” 

Menard, for he it was who spoke, had watched carefully 
over Sylvie, but the state of her health filled him with appre- 
hensions, and at moments he feared that he should be com- 
pelled to place her in a mad-house before their quest was 
accomplished. 

In a nearl}' insensible condition she arrived at the door 
of Jessie Lithgow’s shop; she was standing at it herself, 
compassionately regarding the drenched and half-frozen crea- 
tures who had just been rescued from such imminent peril, 
and the fisherman to whom Menard had appealed came for- 
ward and spoke to her. 

“ Here’s a lady, Miss Lithgow, who is half-drowned and 
very sick. She wants a quiet place to stay in, and I 
thought mayhap you could take her in.” 

After the news she had so lately heard Jessie’s heart was 
easily touched by the sufferings of those who “ go down to 
the sea in ships ; ” she knew the rude little inn was not a 
fit place for a sick lady, and she impulsivelj 7 replied : 

“I will take her in, even if it does put me to some 
inconvenience.” 


THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK. 381 


Sylvie was carried into the back room, where a warm fire 
was blazing, and left to the ministrations of the tender- 
hearted girl. She summoned Mrs. Yethmen to her assis- 
tance, for by that transposition of the name of Methurn the 
Gipsj' was known, and they soon placed the worn-out stran- 
ger comfortably in bed and gave her warm negus to drink. 

The fatigue, exposure and excitement brought on Sylvie 
an attack of fever which lasted several days ; the deep agi- 
tation of her mind induced delirium in which she raved of 
the recent events in her broken life, sometimes in French, 
sometimes in English, for the latter language she had 
learned to speak from Yernor. 

Jessie was compelled to divide her time between her shop 
and the sick stranger, and Minchen established herself as 
nurse beside her couch. Yernor’s name was constantly 
upon her lips, and the passionate entreaties she addressed to 
him not to forsake her for the former bride, gave the quick- 
witted woman a clue to the tragic story of her life, and also 
to him who had inflicted such wrong upon her. In her wan- 
derings upon the continent, Minchen had acquired a compe- 
tent knowledge of the French language, and she listened 
eagerly to the broken words of Sylvie, and sometimes ques- 
tioned her in such a manner as to draw from her more 
connected replies from which she drew her own conclusions 
with unerring sagacity. 

To give certainty to her conjectures, she carefully exam- 
ined the clothing which Sylvie had worn when brought 
there, and in the lining of her dress she found the farewell 
letter Yernor had addressed to her. Minchen was not 
familiar with his writing, but the facts revealed in it tallied 
too well with his former history to admit of a doubt as to 
his identity, and she revelled in the thought that the 
avenger was indeed upon his track. 

She accurately read the character of the passionate and 


382 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


wroDged woman before her, and she felt assured that she 
would stop at nothing to bring retribution to her false lover. 

Sylvie, after days of acute suffering, regained the exercise 
of reason ; but she was weak and wretched ; devoured with 
anxiety to regain her strength and set out upon the search 
she had undertaken. Menard remained at the inn, but he 
visited 'her constantly during her illness, and manifested the 
utmost solicitude for her recovery. When she was able to 
sit up, Minchen sought an opportunity to converse with her, 
and after carefully approaching the subject that so deeply 
interested her, she said : 

“From your ravings during your delirium I have learned 
that you came to England in pursuit of one who has been 
false to you. You called him Vernor — a name very familiar 
to me ; and if you will tell me your whole history, I may 
be able to assist you in your search.” 

The wild black eyes of Sylvie were turned on her with a 
startled expression, and she rapidly said : 

“ Oh ! if you could do that I would nobly reward you. 
I am rich ; but I care little for money now only as it 
enables me to reach and strike a fatal blow at him who has 
degraded my life, and broken my heart. But Vernor is not 
his true name ; he avowed it himself ; then how can you 
help me ? ” 

“Vernor may be, and I think is, a part of his name ; and 
if I am made acquainted with his history as far as it is 
known to you, I may be able to furnish you with a sure clue 
to the one he is known by in this country.” 

Thus urged, Sylvie, in broken tones, gave the story that 
was already partially known to the crafty listener. Every 
word she uttered brought confirmation to the suspicions of 
Minchen ; and when she ended her recital, and imploringly 
asked : 

“ Can you give me a clue by which I can trace him, and 


THE AVENGER ON THE TRACK. 383 


prevent the new wickedness he meditates toward the 
woman he declares he has never loved ? ” The Gipsy 
replied : 

“I can, and I will. I know the man you seek; but he 
is cautious and wary, and we must be very careful if we 
would ensnare him in the net he has prepared for himself. 
Is it your purpose to take vengeance upon him yourself, or 
will you leave your wrongs to be redressed by a court of 
law ? ” 

“What!” she passionately cried — “bring my outraged 
womanhood — my bleeding heart — before a tribunal of law, 
to become a jest and by-word to those who listen to the 
trial ! Never ! with my own hand will I avenge his deser- 
tion — his craven falsehood.” 

“ But have you the nerve to do so ? Will not your hand 
fail you at the last moment?” 

“ My hand is steel — my heart is adamant to him now. 
The love I bore him has turned to hatred so dire, that it is 
capable of accomplishing anything that will fitly punish 
him for his base and cruel conduct to me.” 

Minchen looked searchingly into her face ; she read there 
the unflinching resolution she had expressed ; but she saw 
also the unmistakable evidences that the mind of Sylvie 
was shaken from its balance by the terrible mental agony 
she had endured, and calm reason was no longer the guide 
of her actions. 

Bor Minchen’s plans this was well ; and if Yernor could 
be brought to condign punishment without risk to herself 
or her son, she cared very little for the subsequent fate of 
the instrument by which it was accomplished. 

She had vowed in past years to destroy him, and time 
had not softened her feelings toward him. Though there 
was now no hope that her son could ever stand in the place 
once occupied by his father, she did not the less detest him 


384 the gipsy’s warning. 

who possessed the right to supersede him in his ancestral 
home. 

Toward Gerald her feelings were different, becatfse she 
was aware that he had not acquired his uncle’s estate by 
inheritance, but as the reward of honorable toil ; and bitter 
and hard as her nature was, Minchen respected the man 
who had won his own way to independence and high 
station. 

In a long conversation with Sylvie, it was settled that, so 
soon as she was able to bear the journey, she should go to 
Cliflfden, lay her claims before Ethel and her betrothed, and 
demand to be brought face to face with Yernor. The dagger 
with which the Gipsy had once menaced Sir Hugh was 
brought from its place of concealment, and placed in the 
feverish hand of the invalid, with the assurance that the 
subtle venom with which its point was imbued would produce 
death a few moments after a wound was inflicted with it. 

Sylvie gazed upon the glittering blade with dilating eyes, 
and muttering some unintelligible sentences, she carefully 
sheathed it, and placed it in her bosom. 

The eagerness to commence her journey seemed to act 
upon her physical system, for she recovered with surprising 
rapidity, and in a few more days she was strong enough to 
undertake the journey she meditated. 

Her cousin was the confidant of only a portion of her 
plans, and he willingly undertook to aid her in their accom- 
plishment so far as he understood them. The fatal resolu- 
tion she had taken to destroy her lover in the first moment 
of their meeting she carefully concealed from Menard, for 
she knew he would oppose a consummation which must 
bring her into such imminent danger. 

Of herself Sylvie thought not ; she was reckless of her 
future fate, and hoped that death would release her from the 
promise she had made to become Basil’s wife if he would aid 
her in tracing her false lover. 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 385 

On the day before her intended departure, news of so start- 
ling a nature was circulated in Lyme, that the journey to 
Cliffden was at once abandoned, and a more secret one 
undertaken, without the knowledge of Menard. 

Melchoir, who had undertaken a journey to Cliffden to in- 
form Gerald of the arrival of his cousin in England, had 
been detained near there by a severe accident to himself, and 
his return at this crisis confirmed the intelligence they had 
already received. 

Wrought up to a pitch of wild excitement by hearing of 
Vernor’s late doings, Sylvie was ready for anything, and she 
blindly submitted herself to the guidance of those who so 
ardently wished to make her the Nemesis of her late lover, 
while they escaped the punishment of the crime they insti- 
gated. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 

Cliffden was an ancient castellated mansion which fiad 
belonged to the family from whom it was named, for many 
generations. It stood upon a lofty crag that overlooked the 
sea, and the music of the sounding waves ascended to its 
storm-beaten walls. 

A wide lawn, on which larch and fir trees had been plant- 
ed by some of its former lords, sloped toward the edge of 
the cliffs, through which a flight of rude steps was cut to 
the beach below. 

On Ethel’s first arrival at her new home, the weather had 
been mild and pleasant, and she took great pleasure in wan- 
dering upon the sands, accompanied by Alice, or with Gerald 
during, his brief visits ; for his time was occupied in London 
24 


386 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


in hurrying forward the settlements which would enable him 
to claim his bride. 

Even when the weather became cold and dreary, as chill- 
ing winter approached, on the days when the sun shone 
brightly, Ethel was often tempted to brave the cold breeze 
and descend to her favorite promenade, sometimes with Alice, 
but as often alone, as she had no fear of meeting strangers 
in that secluded spot, and she felt herself quite safe so near 
her own home. 

The young heiress was received by her tenants with 
enthusiastic demonstrations of welcome when, after a short 
stay in London, she came down with her friends from Taun- 
ton and took formal possession of her inheritance. Since 
the death of her grandfather the place had not been occupied, 
as the late Lord Clifton had preferred a residence nearer the 
metropolis. 

The bridal trousseau arrived, and the two girls were im- 
mersed in the delightful occupation of trying on, and criti- 
cizing or approving the taste of the modiste who had been 
employed. Alice was to act as bridesmaid, and a young 
friend of Gerald, who had paid her marked attention while 
they were in London, was expected to be present at the 
Christmas festival which was approaching, after which he 
was to take part in the ceremony as groomsman. 

Extensive preparations were made to give a festival on 
Christmas Eve to the tenants on the estate in true old 
English style, and the wide hall was decorated with holly 
branches mingled with mistletoe. The table, groaning with 
the profusion of good things was decorated in a similar 
manner, and the farmers, with their wives and children 
gathered around it as in the days of feudal rule. 

Ethel, supported by her friends, presided, and with the 
perfect tact which is the offspring of good feeling, she soon 
placed ber rustic guests entirely at their ease. At the close 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 387 


of the feast, her health was drank with enthusiasm, and 
with cries of : 

“ Long life our beautiful lady, and may heaven bless and 
prosper the marriage she is about to make.” 

Blushing vividly, Ethel thanked, and then left them to ex- 
mine the Christmas offerings she had prepared to distribute 
among them. She was glad to be released from her onerous 
duties, for Gerald, who was momentarily expected, had not 
arrived, and a vague sense of uneasiness began to fill her 
heart. 

The heavy clouds portended a stormy night, and she was 
fearful he might be detained till too late an hour to take part 
in the amusements of the evening. 

The hall was cleared, the musicians played their liveliest 
tunes, and the younger portion of the guests entered with 
spirit into the revelry of the hour. In the interludes of the 
dance, Christmas games were played, and each fair one who 
passed beneath the mistletoe bough that hung from the cen- 
tre of the ceiling, was compelled to pay the penalty of a kiss 
to him who had the hardihood to demand it. 

There was much laughing and romping among the young 
people ; fortunes were tried by throwing the leaves of the 
mistletoe upon the hot hearth, each one having the name of 
a youth and maiden given to it, and shouts of laughter arose 
when the heat caused them to spring away from each other, 
as was often the case. 

The ladies of the family looked on the scene with amuse- 
ment and interest from an apartment which opened into the 
hall ; but, as the hours rolled on and Gerald did not arrive, 
Ethel’s heart grew apprehensive that some disaster had be- 
fallen him. 

She drew aside the heavy damask curtain that hung before 
the deep embrasure of a window, and sheltering herself be- 
hind its shrouding folds, endeavored to peer into the dark- 


388 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


ness without. A light snow was falling, and, as her eyes 
became accustomed to the dim light, she distinctly saw the 
figure of a man crouching beneath a leafless tree near the 
window. Wondering who it could be, and why he acted thus 
on so inclement a night, she lifted the sash and spoke to 
him. 

“Who are you, and why do you not enter the house 
where you will find light and warmth ? ” 

Thus addressed, the stranger started forward and said: 

“Pardon me, lady. I came on a private errand to Sir 
Gerald Methurn, and I do not wish my presence here to be 
known. I was watching an opportunity to speak with some 
one. Will you tell him that I wish to see him on business 
of vital importance to himself?” 

“ Sir Gerald is not here ; he has not yet returned from 
London. The night is cold and cheerless ; come in, and 
remain till morning — by that time he will surely be here.” 

“ Thanks, lady ; but my news will not bear a moment’s 
delay. I must go on the road to meet him. I do not fear 
the cold. Good night, Lady Clifton ; I only seek to serve you, 
as well as your betrothed husband, and 1 will yet save you 
from the mischief that threatens you.” 

Melchoir touched his cap and moved swiftly away. Ethel 
shut the window with a feeling of dread she could not con- 
quer for many moments. But she reflected that no cloud 
lay upon the bright horizon before her; that she had no 
cause to fear evil ; and she dismissed the thought of the 
strange visitor with the conviction that he could not have 
been perfectly sane. If he had been, he would have entered 
the house and have asked an interview with him he came to 
seek without this affectation of mystery. But Melchoir 
had his own reasons for not doing so. Several of the ser- 
vants at Cliffden had been at the Priory at the time of its 
occupation by Kirke and his followers, and they were all 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 389 


acquainted with his agency in the arrest of Vernor. He 
feared to be recognized by them and pointed out to Gerald 
as the enemy of his cousin, thus jeopardizing the annuity 
which had been lately restored to himself and his mother. 

To see Gerald a few moments, and warn him of the return 
of his kinsman, was his object, and he again mounted his 
jaded steed, and took the direction of the London road in 
the hope that he should encounter the traveller. He had 
proceeded but a few miles when his horse stumbled, and threw 
him with such violence over his head, as to severely sprain 
one of his ankles. The pain was so acute, that he was glad 
to find a refuge in a peasant’s cottage, from which a light 
was still streaming. 

The injury proved so severe that he was detained more 
than two weeks before he was able to leave his asylum, and 
in the meantime, events had happened atCliffden, which 
rendered his information superfluous. 

The hours passed on ; ten o’clock sounded from the great 
clock in the hall, and Gerald had not arrived. The guests 
were preparing to depart for their own homes, and he had 
had no opportunity to exchange the joyous greeting of* the 
season with them. 

Ethel’s fears began to communicate themselves to those 
around her, when the bustle of an arrival was heard. In a 
few moments Gerald, glowing with health and happiness, 
entered the room in which the family was gathered, accom- 
panied by his friend, Edmund Bertie, who soon found his 
way to the side of Alice, and the blushing reception she 
gave him, showed that the prepossession on her side was at 
least as strong as on his. 

Gerald clasped his betrothed to his manly heart, and whis- 
pered — 

“Never more to part, my dearest Ethel. A few more 
hours, and you will be mine by the most sacred of all ties.” 


390 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


She raised her eyes to his, in which love, and trust were 
mirrored, and replied in the same tone : 

“ Yes, forever yours — yours in heart, and soul. Oh ! Ger- 
ald, nothing can part us now.” 

The party gathered around the blazing Christmas fire, and 
while the new comers enjoyed its grateful warmth, they gave 
a laughing account of the adventures of the journey, and 
the causes which had delayed them to so late an hour. 

Suddenly Ethel remembered the strange colloquy she had 
held through the window, and she drew Gerald aside, and 
asked : 

“ Did you meet a messenger who came hither in a myste- 
rious manner to see you ? I accidentally saw him through 
the window, and spoke with him.” 

“ That was a singular proceeding on such a night as this. 
I have not seen any one on the road. Did he say he would 
seek me ? ” 

Yes, he said his message was of such importance that 
he must go on the road to meet you.” 

“ The inclemency of the night must then have driven him 
to seek shelter before we came along. His news could not 
have been of much consequence, or he would not have failed 
to deliver it.” 

u Perhaps not ; but he seemed very much in earnest.” 

Gerald mused a moment, and then said : 

“ It must have concerned himself then, for I am expect- 
ing no news that can mar the perfect happiness of this joyful 
reunion. Dear Ethel, I have labored for you, and Heaven 
has blessed my exertions. I hold in my grasp the fruition 
of long years of toil, and all I have now to do, is to enjoy 
the supreme happiness I have won with a thankful heart, 
to the giver of all good. The settlements are completed, 
and to-morrow we will be married. Thus the blessed Christ- 
mas season will be twice hallowed to me.” 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 391 
> 

Ethel would have petitioned for a delay of a few days, but 
Gerald reminded her that he had already submitted to 
many ; that her trousseau was prepared, and everything in 
readiness, then wherefore defer their union for a single day ? 
She finally yielded, and he announced to the groups around 
the fire, that the Christmas bells would also ring the peal for 
their marriage. They received the hearty congratulations of 
their friends, and Gerald went out among the tenants, and 
after informing them of the approaching ceremony, requested 
their presence at the parish church on the following morn- 
ing. 

His graceful person and cordial manners had already won 
the hearty approval of their lady’s choice from those hardy 
sons of toil, and his communication was received with accla- 
mations and wishes for the health and happiness of the new 
lord and lady. 

Soon after they dispersed to their homes, and Gerald 
returned to the room in which the family was collected, where 
he found a cozy supper served, with the accompaniments of 
egg nog, and mulled wine. 

The bowls that contained them, were wreathed with mis- 
tletoe, and when the merry meal was ended, Alice took the 
wreath from one of them, and placing it on Ethel’s head, 
chanted some old rhymes which had struck her fancy : 

“ On Christmas eve the bells were rung ; 

On Christmas eve the mass was sung; 

That only night in all the year 
Saw the stoled priest the chalice rear; 

The damsel donned her kirtle sheen ; 

The hall was dressed with holly green ; 

Forth to the woods did merry men go, 

To gather in the mistletoe; 

Then open wide the baron’s hall 
To vassal, tenant, serf, and all.” 

“ We have carried out the programme pretty well, Ethel, 
considering that we live in such degenerate times ; and now 


392 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


that we may act out our own nonsense, with no strangers to 
criticize us, I wish to indulge a fantasy of my own.” 

“ What is it?” asked Gerald laughing. “You maybe 
sure of an appreciative audience.” 

Alice went on with smiling gravity : 

“ The name by which this plant is known in Germany is 
der wiistel, and the people of Holstein call it the branch of 
the spectres. They believe that if a person has nerve enough 
to hold a bunch of misteletoe firmly in the hand, and invoke 
the spirit of the dead, he will see the one of whom he thinks 
arise before him. If he wills to do so, he can speak with 
the spectre.” 

“But, my dear Alice,” said her father, “this seems to 
me a silly tampering with things too solemn to be lightly 
regarded. Besides, it is most unsuitable to the festival we 
have just celebrated. Do not attempt such a thing to-night, 
or indeed on any other night, lest you might get frightened 
at your fancies.” 

“ Dear father, I have set my heart on trying it now, so 
do not oppose me. One would think you really believe in 
ghosts. I do not, and you may safely let me verify the 
German superstition.” 

Alice seldom failed to carry out whatever she undertook, 
and after some persuasion, her father consented that the 
trial might be made. She said : 

“ I have prepared an invocation, which will undoubtedly 
bring the airy phantoms around us, if there is any truth in 
the belief.” 

She placed herself in the centre of the floor, grasped a 
branch of the mistletoe, and assuming a tragic air, com- 
menced : 

“ Spirits of the vasty deep, 

On the wings of night now sweep ; 

Come through storm, come through air, 

And answer to my earnest prayer ; 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 393 


If the dead may rise to light, 

Come and speak with me to-night.” 

There was a mystic silence, only interrupted by the sound 
of the rising wind sweeping against the walls of the house. 
After a pause of several moments, Alice threw aside her 
tragic air, and said, in a disappointed tone : 

“ I am not spiritual enough to have the weird vision 
revealed to me; but you, Ethel, can -perhaps try it with 
better success. Come, priestess, you are already crowned 
with the Druidical wreath, and you shall take my place.” 

With playful force she drew her friend forward, and 
unwilling to refuse her request, Ethel permitted the branch 
of mistletoe to be thrust in her hand, a'nd in her turn she 
repeated the invocation. 

Her face was turned toward the door, which opened in 
the hall, and while she repeated the invocation, her eyes 
became fascinated to it as she saw it begin slowly to unclose. 
A figure appeared in the open space, that curdled the life- 
blood around her heart and froze her lips into silence. 

A tall man, wearing a light-colored overcoat, made white 
by the snow that had fallen upon it ; his long, fair hair, 
sprinkled with the same fleecy flakes, fell in disorder upon 
his shoulders, beneath which was seen a face as pallid as 
that of any ghost. He spoke in a tone of hollow mockery : 

(< You have called me, and lo! I come.” 

A cry escaped Mrs. Digby, and she exclaimed : 

“ It is Vernor ! you have summoned him from the realms 
of the dead. Drop that branch, that he may forever 
vanish.” 

“That is easier said than done,” said Vernor, in his natu- 
ral voice, as he strode forward and confronted the group. 
u I am no ‘ goblin damned/ but a flesh and blood entity, 
which I can well believe you would all be glad to drive 
back into the realms of everlasting nothingness. But I am 


894 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


here, and I have come to claim my own from him who has 
unlawfully seized upon it.” 

For a moment Gerald stood frozen into silence by this 
terrible interruption to their mirth. But he was aroused 
from his immobility by a faint cry from Ethel, and she fell 
insensible in his outstretched arms. As they folded around 
her, the wretched conviction came to him that another 
present possessed the right to stand between himself and 
her he had deemed so entirely his own. He stifled the deep 
groan of agony that arose in his tortured soul, and endeav- 
ored to restore animation to Ethel by sprinkling water from 
the table over her inanimate features. 

Yernor made a step toward him, and hoarsely said : 

“ Unhand that lady, sir ; let my aunt minister to her, for 
I do not choose my wife to lie thus in the arms of another 
man. I am too frozen to touch her myself, or I would tear 
her from your defiling grasp.” 

He had drawn near the fire, the others shrinking away 
from him as if they still regarded him as a supernatural 
presence, and was attempting to thaw his chilled hands over 
the blazing fire. Gerald cast upon him a glance of defiance 
and sternly said : 

“ This lady need not become an object of contention 
between us. Her own decision shall govern both of us as to 
which one she will prefer as her future husband.” 

“I comprehend that ruse,” replied Yernor, with a con- 
temptuous curl of his haughty lip. “ You think yourself 
secure of getting it in your favor ; but the law gives her to 
me; and I defy you, or any one else, to invalidate my 
claim.” 

“ You resigned her long ago to me, I thought you dead, 
or I should have placed her fate beyond your control.” 

“ But you see that I am not dead ; and you have failed 
to accomplish that necessary duty. Since you neglected it, 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 395 


I shall avail myself of every right I still possess over that 
girl, who offers a pretty welcome to her long-absent husband 
by fainting when he appears in her presence.” 

“ Do not dare to call yourself her husband, for in the 
sight of God j 7 ou are not ! you never have been that. You 
sacrificed her once to your desire for the wealth she inher- 
ited, and you have now returned to force her odious bonds 
upon her because she again has fortune to bestow upon you. 
Listen to me, Vernor ! Sooner than you shall claim Ethel 
as your wife, I will destroy you ! I will die myself if it 
becomes necessary to do so.” 

Yernor coolly replied : 

“ In your disappointment you may commit suicide if you 
choose, but I shall live to make my pretty Ethel happy, and 
to regain the fortune you have wrested from me. Sir Ger- 
ald Methurn indeed ! Lay aside your usurped title, and 
resign all pretensions to Lady Clifton, if you are what you 
pretend to be — a man of honor.” 

“ No true man wonld give up the idol of his life to such 
guardianship as yours would prove,” was the disdainful 
reply. “As to our rival claims, the law itself, backed by 
the wishes of Ethel, will decide that she shall belong to me. 
But this is no time or place to settle that question. See — 
she revives ; she wakes to woe enough, without witnessing 
this contention over her in the first hour of our meeting.” 

Mrs. Digby, with trembling hands, had been bathing the 
brow of Ethel, and she now unclosed her eyes, looked 
around, and seeing Yernor, buried her face in Gerald’s 
bosom, while she murmured : 

“It is true, then! It was no phantom! Take me away 
— hold me fast — Gerald, for 1 will cling to you even in death 
itself.” 

Vernor strode toward her, and mockingly said: 

« So-o— my lady bride will not even look upon her long- 


396 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


absent one. I can well imagine the vigils you have held— 
the tears you have wept over my supposed fate — my pretty 
Ethel, and if they have dimmed your beauty I can forgive 
it. Let me look upon your face, that I may judge if it is 
much changed since we last met.” 

Ethel raised her hand as if to deprecate a nearer approach, 
and turning her colorless face toward him, she said : 

“ Leave me forever, I implore you ! Take my fortune, 
take everything I claim, hut leave me free to walk my path 
of life without your companionship. You never loved me; 
you gave me up yourself, and I call on you to redeem your 
plighted word.” 

“ On my soul if it were possible to claim your wealth 
without the encumbrance, 1 would take you at your word,” 
he fiercely rejoined. “ But so important a personage as 
Lady Clifton cannot so easily renounce her hereditary 
estates in favor of another. Only as your husband can I 
hold them, and as such I intend to enjoy them. Loose your 
hold on that man ; cease to cling to him, or my passion may 
pass the bounds of prudence.” 

Ethel relaxed her grasp on Gerald’s arm, stood upright 
before him, and a faint shade of color swept over her pale 
face as she spoke with dignity : 

“ I obey you, since the right to command me is still un- 
fortunately yours ; but hear me in my turn. No earthly 
power shall ever compel me to live with you as your wife. 
You may, for a season, stand between me and the man I 
love, but I shall find means to break the wicked bonds in 
which you bound me while I was yet too young to compre- 
hend how odious they might become. You never loved me ; 
m 3 ' fortune was all you sought in gaining my hand, and the 
wealth I now possess shall yet purchase freedom for me from 
your cruel power.” 

“ It might perhaps, if 1 permitted you to use it for that 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 397 


purpose ; but I shall take good care not to do so. The laws 
of England give a man absolute control over his wife, and I 
advise you to submit to the fate that is inevitable. Almost 
by a miracle I escaped the shipwreck in which you thought 
I had perished. The letters I wrote you were never received, 
it seems; or they may have been suppressed. He who 
sought to supersede me in my family inheritance, and also 
in your affections, can doubtless give an account of them.” 

He fixed his eyes insolently on Gerald, who proudly re- 
plied : 

“ My whole course in life refutes such an absurd charge; 
neither do I believe that such letters have ever been written. 
Where have you been during all these years ? ” 

Vernor dared not name the place of his late residence, and 
he said : 

li I was picked up by a ship bound to Virginia. When 
the news of the revolution in this country reached there, I 
immediately embarked for my native home. On landing at 
Lyme, I learned that you had usurped my title and fortune, 
and that my bride was also about to bestow her hand upon 
you. I hurried hither to put a stop to such a proceeding, 
and now, Sir Gerald Methurn, I demand the restitution of 
my wife and estate.” 

“ On the last you have no legal claim, for the property of 
my uncle has become mine by purchase. The title has also 
been bestowed on me for services rendered to the present 
King ; but I waive my right to bear it, if you choose to as- 
sume a barren distinction unsupported by the wealth that 
can alone render it respectable. As to Ethel, she has 
already declared her resolution not to be claimed by you. I 
will maintain her right to do so at any cost. No man, 
worthy of the name, would insist on the fulfilment of a con- 
tract made as this was, and shrunk from on her part with a 
degree of antipathy which must, every hour, wound him in 


398 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the most sensitive part of his nature. But yours is a cal- 
lous one, Yernor, as I have long known, and in dealing with 
you I must use such weapons as are in my power. In my 
turn, I will threaten you. You are here without permission 
from the authorities ; I have influence, which shall be used 
against you to the utmost limit, if you persist in your 
iniquitous demands. I will have you thrown in prison, and 
there dictate the only terms on which freedom will be granted 
you again.” 

Yernor laughed disdainfully. 

“ If I am sent to prison, I will have my lady wife to min- 
ister to me. That , at least, will not be denied to me in a 
land of equal laws.” 

The rest of the group had listened in appalled silence to 
this passionate colloquy ; but Mr. Digby here interposed : 

“ It is useless to recriminate thus. Mrs. Digby, remove 
Ethel to her chamber, for she seems scarcely able to sustain 
herself. Go with them, Alice, and send a servant to conduct 
Mr. Bertie to his chamber. Gerald and myself will talk 
with Yernor, and endeavor to bring him to a more reasonable 
frame of mind.” 

Yernor stepped forward and attempted to take Ethel’s 
hand in his ; but she shrank away, saying : 

“ No — no — never shall my hand be clasped in yours again. 
You resigned it to him to whom it is now plighted, and my 
heart ratifies the contract.” 

A dark frown gathered on his brow, and he said, through 
his closed teeth : 

“ We shall see who will be the winner. I play for a great 
stake, and the opposition of a feeble woman shall not mar 
my game. I give you this night to reflect upon your posi- 
tion and make up your mind to your inevitable fate. Ethel 
Methurn, I claim your allegiance as my lawful wife, and, 
mark me, it shall be rendered .” 


A STARTLING REAPPEARANCE. 399 

Ethel seemed on the verge of fainting again, and Mrs. 
Digby hastily drew her away. The three ladies left the 
room togetlier, Alice almost sustaining the sinking frame of 
her friend, whose strength was exhausted by the violent emo- 
tions of the last few moments. 

When in her own chamber, she wept upon the bosom of 
her adopted mother, and wildly asked if it would be possible 
for Vernor to force her to live with him as his wife. 

“ Calm your agitation, my love,” said Mrs. Digby, sooth- 
ingly. “Vernor assumes a high tone, but he must feel the 
weakness of his cause. He cannot compel you to return to 
him. It will take time to obtain a divorce, but no English 
jury will refuse a verdict in your favor, when the facts of the 
case are set fairly before them.” 

“ But Vernor may attempt to avenge on Gerald the pre- 
ference I feel for him. Oh ! Aunty, he looks so savage — so 
revengeful, that my heart dies within me when I think of 
him.” 

“ My son can protect himself, Ethel, have no fear for him. 
Bad as I am afraid Vernor is, he will attempt no violence 
toward his cousin. He has too tender a care for his own 
safety, you may be sure.” 

Thus reassured, Ethel became more composed, but for her 
aching heart there was no repose during the long hours of 
that wretched night. She could not lie upon her bed ; the 
restless spirit within her impelled her to constant motion, 
and she paced the floor till morning broke dark and chill as 
her own dreary fate. Then, exhausted by her vigil, she 
threw herself upon her couch and fell into a feverish, broken 
slumber, which was disturbed by terrible visions of Vernor 
tearing her from her friends and home. 

The light of that day, which was to have witnessed her 
espousals to the man she adored, fell upon her wan and 
wretched, fearful of the evil influence which had darkened 


400 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


her life and half broken her heart. She was too ill and mis- 
erable to descend to breakfast, and Alice came in to share 
the repast which was served in her own apartment. She 
endeavored to cheer the sinking spirits of her friend, but she 
had as yet no favorable news to communicate. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

VERNOR DISMAYED. 

Vainly did Mr. Digby endeavor to mediate between the 
two cousins. Vernor pertinaciously adhered to his demands, 
and declared that the full and ample restitution of his for- 
tune, together with the surrender of Ethel, were the only 
terms to which he would listen. He derided the threat of 
Gerald to have him arrested ; William of Orange, the hero 
of a successful revolution, would scarcely punish an adherent 
of Monmouth for venturing back to his native land, especi- 
ally after having endured so long an exile as his had been ; 
and if he were thrown in prison, so soon as his case was 
made known and the motives of his arrest laid before those 
in power, he would certainly be released. 

Gerald felt this to be true, and his soul writhed within 
him at the thought that his own neglect of Ethel’s best 
interests had placed such fatal power in the hands of a bold 
and unscrupulous man. 

He wrote to Mr. Clyde and begged him to lose no time in 
taking the preliminary steps toward obtaining a divorce for 
her, stating clearly the grounds on which it was demanded; 
though, alas ! many months must elaspe before the delays 
of the law would enable him to bestow on Ethel the protec- 
tion of a husband. 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


401 


Several days were consumed in fruitless negotiation, dur- 
ing which Ethel confined herself to her own apartment, and 
steadily refused to receive the intruder. Vernor assumed 
the command of the house as its lawful master, and the ser- 
vants learned to their dismay that the wedding of their lady 
would not take place, as a former husband, long supposed 
dead, had returned to assert his prior claim to her, 

Gerald was almost in despair at the firmness of Vernor, 
when a letter from Lyme was delivered to him which chang- 
ed the aspect of affairs in his favor. It was directed in the 
cramped hand of one not much accustomed to writing, and 
on opening it he found these lines : 

“Sir Gerald Methurn — Honored Sir : — I write this 
to let you know of a discovery I have made which may be 
important to you. 

“ Three days ago a ship went ashore near this place ; the 
people on board were saved, and one of the passengers was 
brought to Jessie Lithgow’s, where I lodge. She is a young 
and beautiful woman, I can see, although she has been sick 
almost unto death since her arrival here. During her illness 
her wild ravings informed me of some facts that bear upon 
the history of your cousin, Vernor Methurn, who I am aware 
is now in England. 

“ I know much of Vernor’s former life, and when his first 
name fell so often from her lips I listened to her words with 
interest, believing that they referred to your uncle’s son. I 
sought for a confirmation of my suspicions, and found a let- 
ter concealed in the dress she wore when she was brought 
hither, which proved to me that I was right in my conjec- 
tures. 

“I enclose you a copy of that letter, as I dared not remove 
the original. You can judge for yourself if the facts it con- 
tains can be of any use to you at this crisis. He has mar- 
25 


402 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 




ried a second wife while his first one is yet living, and this 
poor girl has followed him to demand such redress as the law 
may afford. 

“ Four nights ago Vernor Methurn was in this place, and 
by this time he is undoubtedly at Cliffden. I know the Lady 
Ethel was soon to marry you, and the information I send 
may enable you to deal with your adversary on more equal 
terms. You may rely on the truth of this statement from a 
friend, although my name is not signed to it. 

“M. V.” 

Below this was copied the letter Vernor had written to 
Sylvie, and Gerald no sooner glanced over it than he saw 
from internal evidence that his cousin must have been the 
author of the orignal. The date also confirmed his suspi- 
cions that Vernor had not told the truth as to the place of 
his refuge during the years of his absence. 

In a tumult of feeling he sought Mr. Digby and laid the 
important missive before him. He read it carefully, and 
then said : 

“This places Vernor at your mercy. The woman he has 
thus wronged will expose his treachery, and to avoid a pro- 
secution for bigamy he will be compelled to fly from the 
country. A delay of a few months will enable you to claim 
your bride, for now all legal difficulties to a divorce must 
vanish before the proofs you can bring forward of his utter 
want of principle and feeling. Let us seek an interview 
with him and show him the critical position in which he 
stands.” 

Vernor was walking on the sea beach, but in a short time 
he came up and returned to the house. Gerald met him in 
the hall and requested a private conversation in the library. 

“ Our interviews lead to so little that is satisfactory, that 
it seems useless to hold them,” he said, with a sneer, “ but I 
will not refuse your request.” 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


403 


“This one at least will be more decisive,” was the signifi- 
cant reply; “I have something of importance to communi- 
cate to you which will probably change your plan of action.” 

“ I fancy not ; but we shall see,” and he indolently follow- 
ed his cousin and threw himself in a chair in front of the 
fire. Mr. Digby was seated beside the library table, and 
Gerald carefully closed the door of the room. Vernor 
haughtily said : 

“ You take many precautions which are now useless, for 
every servant in this house knows who I am and why I 
have come hither. They also begin to comprehend that I 
intend to maintain the footing I have gained here as the 
lawful master of the domain.” 

“ I am quite well aware of that ; but they do not know 
what I am about to communicate to you. It has been 
known to myself only within the last hour, and I warn you 
that it will be a terrible blow to you.” 

“Let it fall then,” was the reckless rejoinder. “I am 
prepared for anything you can have to tell me.” 

“ I think you are scarcely prepared for this. How long is 
it since you left Barbadoes, and deserted the woman to whom 
you were united there ? I am aware that you have never 
been in Virginia ; that the years of your exile were spent in 
the West Indies.” 

As Vernor listened his cheeks blanched, he visibly trem- 
bled, though he faltered : 

“It is false! Ho woman has a legal claim on me save 
Ethel ; why should you presume to doubt my word as to the 
place of my exile ? ” 

“ I doubt it because it is satisfactorily proved to me that 
you have never been in Virginia. The woman you lately 
deserted is already in England in pursuit of you, and by 
this time the clue to your identity is furnished to her, 
though you wedded her only under your baptismal name.” 


404 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


He looked fixedly on the changing face of the listener, 
and if confirmation had been needed the agitation of Yernor 
supplied it. He faintly gasped : 

“ Sylvie in England ! Sylvie on my track ! then I am 
indeed undone ! ” 

After a moment of perturbed thought he passionately 
asked : 

u Who has told you this? What proof have you of what 
you assert ? ” 

Gerald offered him the letter of the Gipsy and calmly 
said : 

“ Bead that, and see that you are no longer safe in this 
country.” 

With dilating eyes Yernor read the lines, then glanced 
over the copy of his own letter to Sylvie, and the fidelity 
of the last assured him that no deception against him was 
attempted by his cousin. He saw that an avenging fate had 
thrown into Sylvie’s hands the means of ruining him, and 
he knew her too well to hope that she would spare him. To 
remain in England was to subject himself to a prosecution 
which must end in a long and ignominious imprisonment ; 
and, in a depressed tone, he said : 

“ Fate is against me. I must evade this woman at all haz- 
ards; and I accept from you the terms I have hitherto 
rejected. I must leave the country before this infernal 
tigress can take Any steps against me. I must say in my 
own defence, however, that when I gave my hand to Sylvie 
Menard, I thought sufficient time had elasped to have the 
tie between Ethel and myself broken here. I did not mean 
to act the villain by her, for I loved her.” 

" Then why have you so cruelly deserted her?” 

“ Does not my letter to her tell you plainly enough ? I 
am no saint, and tier temper exasperated me beyond endur- 
ance. I was weary of her before the news came that you 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


405 


were about to marry Ethel ; I frankly own that if she had 
not been Lady Clifton I should have remained in Barbadoes, 
and suffered the wedding to take place ; but I could not give 
up such a prospect for a woman I no longer cared for.” 

A silence of some moments ensued after this frank 
avowal, which was broken by Mr. Digby : 

u My advice to you, Yernor, is to leave England as soon 
as possible. Ethel is my ward, and on her part I promise 
the sum of three hundred pounds to be paid to you annu- 
ally. Gerald will allow you as much more from the income 
of your late father’s estate, and that is nearly equal to the 
sum enjoyed by Sir Hugh. On the continent you can evade 
the person who has followed you hither, if you are resolved 
not to do such justice to her as the lapse of a few months 
will place in your power. If your union with her, was 
prompted by love, Vernor, you may be happy with her yet.” 

His lip curled contemptuously : 

“ I thank you for your advice, but I prefer freedom to the 
life Sylvie has led me for the last year or two. Neither 
would she accept such reparation, for she will never forgive 
me for abandoning her. My life would hardly be safe if 
we were shut up in the same room together, for these tropi- 
cal woman are devils incarnate when they are wronged 
as I have wronged her. Pay me the first instalment of my 
annuity; give me such writings as will secure it to me for 
life, and I will seek my own safety in my own way.” 

This was gladly assented to. Gerald drew up the obliga- 
tion, observing such legal forms as were necessary to render 
it valid ; and Vernor prepared to depart. 

He requested a last interview with Ethel, and after learn- 
ing from Gerald the secret of his sudden submission, she 
consented to receive him in the presence of Mrs. Digby. 

The young girl sat near the fire, in a large crimson chair, 
dressed in a becoming morning robe, with a bright colored 


406 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


shawl thrown around her. Her hair, of a bright golden 
brown, fell in natural ringlets around her polished brow; 
the news she had lately heard had recalled the color to her 
cheeks, and the soft eyes had lost the expression of terror 
that lately dwelt in them. 

Vernor gazed on this picture of youth and innocence with 
rage and mortification in his heart. He saw that Ethel had 
developed into a most charming woman, and in that moment 
he felt that he could have loved her. He remembered all 
the sweet and feminine traits of her character, and con- 
trasted them with those of the wilful being who had once so 
deeply enthralled him, and he cursed the blindness of heart 
which had led him to estrange her from him by his long 
neglect. 

Ethel greeted him with a faint smile, but she did not ex- 
tend her hand to him. Mrs. Digby sat beside the window, 
partially concealed by the heavy curtain, and Yernor threw 
himself on a chair beside Ethel. He abruptly said : 

“ I have come to bid you farewell, Ethel. I have made 
you miserable in the last few days, and if fortune had not 
turned against me, I might have still continued to do so, for 
I do not pretend to be better than I am. You once loved 
me well enough to give me your hand, and if time had been 
granted me I would have won you back again. You would 
have recalled all my father’s kindness to you, and you could 
not utterly have cast off his son. Tell me, Ethel, did you 
not once love me ? ” 

“ I always have felt for you the affection of a sister, Yer- 
nor, and as my brother I would gladly receive you. I will 
own, that if you had treated me differently after you obtained 
my hand, I might have learned the task that was set for 
me ; but you neglected me ; you showed me plainly that you 
had sacrificed yourself to the wishes of your father, and my 
heart shrank away from you. Then came those terrible 

■ 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


407 


days in which you were condemned to exile ; if you had even 
then shown that you wished my companionship, I would 
have followed you, and shared your fate. You remember 
liow you refused ; you maj' recall your own words by which 
you restored to me the right to cherish my childish preference 
for Gerald. I mourned over your misfortunes ; I wept over 
your supposed death, and — my heart clung to him who stood 
beside me and sustained me through all my trials. Now 
— I can never become the wife of any man save Gerald. I 
love him, as perhaps I might have loved you, if you had 
taken the same pains to win my affections.” 

The avowal that she might have been won to love him 
awoke new hopes in the breast of Yernor, and dropping on 
his knees before her, he supplicated : 

" Oh, Ethel, return to your allegiance to me, and I prom- 
ise to be to you the best, the tenderest of husbands. We 
can seek a new home in a fairer land than this, where I 
shall be free to devote my life to you.” 

An expression of severity swept over her face, and her 
soft eyes lighted with anger at this daring proposal, she 
proudly said : 

“What! take back the perjured hand that has been 
plighted to another! Accept the false heart which has 
blighted the life of the woman that really loves you ! 
Never ! If Gerald did not stand between us, your own acts 
would place an invincible, barrier to our union.” 

He sprang up, and passionately said: 

u So — Gerald has told you of that ! The girl was madly 
in love with me ; I was ruined — dependent upon her father 
for the means of life, so what could I do but accept the 
advances 6he made to me? I thought our union had been 
dissolved w T hen I married her, for I did not mean to play 
the villain to her. But she made me miserable ; she was 
jealous and passionate, and my heart grew cold to her. 


408 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


When I heard that I could reclaim my first love, my 
thought recurred to you with a tenderness I had never 
before felt for any one. Oh, Ethel, take me back ; fly to 
the continent with me where I shall be safe, and I swear to 
make yoU happy, I swear to — ” 

She raised her hand deprecatingly — 

“Say no more, Vernor. Do not humiliate yourself by 
entreaties that can avail nothing. Since you abused the 
hospitalities of the good Samaritans who took you in, in 
your hour of need, you owe to this lady the only reparation 
it is now in your power to make, when you are free to do so, 
legalize the tie that binds you to her, and thus regain her 
respect and affection.” 

“ That advice is easier given than acted on. If you knew 
Sylvie you would comprehend that she will never forgive 
me for deserting her, and if she believed you to be really 
her rival, she would be capable of destroying you.” 

She shuddered, and presently said : 

“ Such love as she must have felt for you cannot easily be 
estranged. Vernor, you can make your peace with her, and 
I conjure you to seek her, and make the attempt at all 
hazards.” 

“ Then your resolution is irrevocable ? ” 

“ Irrevocable as fate itself,” was the firm reponse, and 
Vernor arose, and stood pale and haughty before her. 

“Then all that remains to me is to bid you farewell. If 
I have treated you badly, Ethel, you have in your turn 
crushed .the best hopes and impulses of my heart. With 
such a woman as you are, I might have been elevated, and 
made a better man ; with Sylvie, I shall go down — down 
deeper in the slough of iniquity. But let that pass.” 

“ Then you will seek her ? You will atone for the inju- 
ries you have inflicted on her? ” she eagerly asked. 

“ Perhaps I may ; I do not know — I am tossed on a sea 
of perplexity and doubt as to the best course to pursue.” 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


409 


“Oh ! Vernor,” she imploringly said, with clasped hands 
and weeping eyes — “Let your better angel speak within 
your soul. Pray to God for guidance in this hour of inde- 
cision, and He will teach you to be just, to be honorable 
toward this unfortunate woman. Bind up her broken heart, 
and find your reward in a deeper, tenderer love than she 
has even yet felt for you.” 

He gloomily replied : 

“ Since all hope is ended here, perhaps it will be the best 
course I can pursue. Give me your hand for the last time, 
Ethel. It will soon he bestowed upon another, but my last 
kiss cannot defile it.” 

She reluctantly extended it, and pressing it to his lips, 
Vernor turned away to meet his aunt standing between 
himself and the door. 

“ Dear Vernor,” she said with emotion, “ may God con- 
firm you in your good resolutions. Follow Ethel’s counsels, 
and find happiness, and respectability in the future.” 

He hastily wrung her hand, and said : 

“I promise to seek Sylvie, and if she will listen to reason, 
perhaps the best thing I can do will be to follow your coun- 
sels. Good-bye, Aunt Agnes ; forget your unhappy nephew, 
and rejoice in the rising fortunes of your son.” 

He hurriedly left the apartment, and in half an hour was 
on his way to Lyme with a heart filled with chagrin and 
bitter disappointment. Ethel, lovely, tender^ endowed with 
a brilliant fortune, he had cast away, and for what ? The 
fascination and brilliant charms of Sylvie which had once 
so deeply enchanted him, were in that hour valueless in his 
sight, and he revolved plan after plan for getting Ethel in 
his power, and evading the pursuit of her who came as an 
avenging fury upon his path. But the whirl of thought 
soon settled into the conviction that the best thing he could 
do for his own interest, was to make his peace with Sylvie, 


410 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


return with her to her island home, and when the power 
was his, make her his lawful wife. 

That he was swayed by any but selfish motives in this 
determination, it would be false to state. 

He reflected that the sum he would annually receive from 
his relatives, would suffice to render him independent of 
Sylvie, and he would have the enjoyment of a luxurious 
home in a climate that was congenial to him ; so balancing 
one evil against another, Yernor finally made up his mind 
to humble himself before the loving heart which he felt 
assured would not refuse his prayer for a reconciliation. 

He reached Lyme in the dusk of evening, and seeing an 
excited group gathered on the pier, he rode down to it and 
enquired what had happened. He learned that a woman 
had drowned herself in the sea a short time before ; that 
she was a foreigner who had been in the country but a few 
days, and Yernor’s heart gave a great bound as he thought 
that it might be Sylvie. If so, he was free to make another 
effort to regain Ethel, and no scruples of humanity should 
stand in his way. 

The inquiries he made were answered in such a manner 
as to mislead him completely, and Vernor arrived at the 
triumphant conclusion that in her despair, Sylvie had com- 
mitted suicide. As if to give certainty to this delusion, he 
saw Jessie Lithgow among those who were seeking some 
clue to the fate of the unfortunate woman, and beside her 
was Basil Menard, whom he instantly recognized, but he 
was very careful to conceal his face from the keen glance of 
his old enemy. 

There was no time for the indulgence of remorse, if his 
callous heart had been susceptible of such a feeling, and he 
turned his horse’s head from the town and rode slowly 
toward the cove in which he knew the smugglers concealed 
their vessels while discharging their contraband goods. 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


411 


Had he paused long enough to make inquiries in the 
town, he would have learned that Sjdvie was still in the 
house of Jessie Lithgow rapidly recovering from her late 
illness, and that the poor stranger who had destroyed her- 
self was an Italian who had been left destitute in a 
foreign land. 

As if Fate had resolved to destroy him, Yernor rashly 
adopted the belief he wished to entertain ; for, much as he 
had once loved Sylvie, he now felt that her death was a wel- 
come release to him, and an earnest of future prosperity. 

As he rode forward, his plans were rapidly matured, and 
to his great joy when he came in sight of the cove he found 
the same lugger still detained there in which he had voy- 
aged to Lyme. Dismounting, he descended the rugged 
pathway and stepped on board. The captain came forward 
to receive him, and said with much surprise : 

“ So it’s really you, Mr. Methurn ! I did not expect to 
see you again so soon. I thought you would be away to 
claim your estate.” 

“ I found a usurper in possession,” he drily responded, 
“and I have come to you to help me out of a strait. But 
what has detained you here so long ? I thought you would 
have gone on your voyage back before this time.” 

The man uttered an oath and said : 

“ The cursed revenue officers are on the watch, and I 
have been penned up here, watching for an opportunity to 
escape for days ; but I’ll give ’em the slip yet.” 

“Perhaps you will find that it has been as much to your 
interest to be detained as if you had sailed. Come with me 
into the cabin, for I have something of importance to pro- 
pose to you.” 

The skipper left the deck in charge of a sailor he sum- 
moned from below, and accompanying Yernor into the cabin 
closed the door. When they were alone he said : 


412 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“And now, sir, I am at your service. What can I do to 
help you ? ” 

“ Captain Tompkins, will you aid a deeply wronged man 
to right himself? and at the same time do a handsome 
thing for yourself.” 

“ If I cifn kill two birds with one stone, you may be sure 
that I shan’t refuse to do so. What has happened, and how 
can I serve you ? ” 

“ I will tell you. My cousin has taken advantage of my 
absence to possess himself of my inheritance ; he has tra- 
duced me to my own wife until her mind is so deeply 
poisoned against me that she refuses to return to me; she 
even threatens to apply for a divorce that she may give her 
hand to him who has so deeply injured me. Since I have 
returned to England without the formality of a pardon from 
the government, I cannot show myself openly, and Gerald 
Methurn has taken advantage of this to defy me even in 
the house of my wife. The service I wish from you is, to 
slip out of this cove, and lie in wait about twenty miles 
above, till I come on board with the faithless woman who 
has acted thus ; for it is my purpose to seize her and bear 
her away by force. If you will do this, and land me safely 
on the coast of France, I will reward you in proportion to 
the magnitude of the service.” 

The captain listened in surprise. 

“ I have heard that Lady Clifton has been married before, 
but I did not learn who was her husband. If she refuses 
to live with you, what can you do with her? ” 

“Once in a foreign land, I can easily manage her. Be- 
sides she loved me in other days, and when she knows that 
her fate is irrevocably linked with mine, she will forget her 
lover and content herself with me.” 

“ It’s a ticklish affair, sir, and I hardly know what to say 
about it. You know the old adage — ‘ If a woman will, she 


VERNOR DISMAYED. 


413 


will ; and if she won’t, she won’t ; ’ and if this young lady 
loves your cousin she won’t be likely to stay with you on 
any terms.” 

“ I’ll risk that,” said Vernor, resolutely. “All you have 
to do is to help me regain my lawful authority over her, and 
if she escapes from it again it will be my own fault. I 
have money — I will pay you a large sum in advance for the 
service, and when my wife is reconciled to her fate I will 
give you another bonus for helping me to regain my lost 
happiness. The King’s vessel watches for you below the 
town — you can slip out above, perform the service I demand, 
and make a good use of the time you are losing here.” 

“ I don’t know but you’re right, sir. It is now ten days 
that I’ve laid cooped up here, hoping to tire out the patience 
of that revenue officer ; but he still hangs on, and he’d 
have been here after me before now if his cutter wasn’t of 
such heavy draft. After all, I don’t see as a woman has 
the right to refuse to go with her lawful husband when he 
commands her to do so, and if your pay is good, I may as 
well take the job as another.” 

“That is well,” said Vernor, drawing forth his purse, 
from which he took the money that morning given him by 
Gerald as the first instalment of his annuity, and offered 
the larger part of it to the captain. He seemed surprised 
at the amount tendered, and Vernor jauntily said : 

“ You see that I pay munificently. I always do so when 
I demand good service ; and now, how soon can you be at 
your post ? ” 

“ In twenty-four hours at farthest ; but how are you to 
gain possession of your prize ? ” 

“ That will be easy enough. She often walks alone on 
the sea beach below Cliffden, and I shall lie in wait for her 
till she appears, then seize on and bear her away. The 
weather is mild and beautiful for the season, and, now that 


414 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


I am believed to have taken my final leave of her, Lady 
Clifton will resume her usual habits. You may be detained 
a few days ; but I am almost certain that in that time I 
shall make sure of my quarry.” 

If the skipper had any scruples they were silenced by 
the voice of interest, and he prepared to go on this iniqui- 
tous errand. Yernor remained on board, and in the 
darkness of night, the lugger slipped her cables, and 
eluding the cutter, which was cruising around her place of 
refuge, sailed up the coast till she came in sight of the 
lofty bight on which stood the mansion of Cliffden. 

About two miles below was an indentation in the shore, 
sheltered by a projecting headland, which offered a secure 
haven in mild weather; here the anchor was cast, and Yer- 
nor went on shore to watch for the prey he had come to 
entrap. A boat rowed by two men was kept constantly at 
his command, and a signal was agreed on between himself 
and the captain by which the latter would learn when tho 
capture was made, and prepare his vessel to sail as soon as 
Ethel was safe on board. 

Having thus arranged his plans, Yernor sought a cavern 
below the cliffs which he had discovered during his late 
visit. The opening from it commanded a view of the path- 
way leading to the beach, and if Ethel descended it he must 
see her. 

Three days passed away, and she came not ; he had 
almost despaired ; the captain was becoming impatient, and 
Yernor was meditating the chances of success in a foray 
against the house, when he saw a light figure wrapped in 
furs descending the pathway alone, in which he recognized 
Ethel. The signal agreed on was instantly given, and Yer- 
nor left his covert and prepared to spring upon his victim. 


THE ABDUCTION. 


415 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE ABDUCTION. 

When Vernor took his departure from Cliffden, Gerald 
sought the apartment of Ethel, to impart the welcome tid- 
ings to her that she need fear no further persecution from 
his cousin. 

During Vernor’s stay in the house the lovers had scarcely 
met, for each was too wretched to offer even the consolation 
of hope to the other. With so bold and corrupt an adver- 
sary as Vernor, they could not tell what base ruse he might 
employ to frustrate their future happiness. Ethel dreaded 
his presence near her even more than death itself, and in his 
unsuccessful efforts to deal with him, Gerald lost the little 
confidence he might once have felt in his good feeling. He 
clearly saw that the lapse of time had confirmed the worst 
traits of Vernor’s character; that he had become a thor- 
oughly hard-hearted, self-indulgent sensualist, who was ready 
to trample on the most sacred rights of others to attain his 
own personal gratification. 

Gerald had nothing in common with such a man, and he 
recoiled from him with a depth of repulsion which gave 
additional poignancy to the thought that he held such fatal 
power over the destiny of the woman he loved. To rescue 
her from him even if she could never become his own, was 
the strongest desire of his soul, and a terrible weight of anx- 
iety was lifted from his heart when the letter of Minchen 
placed it in his power to dictate terms to Vernor. 

He came in smiling and joyful, and seating himself beside 
Ethel, without even attempting to take her hand, he said : 

“ Vernor is gone, my dear Ethel, and I think we shall see 
him no more. He is no longer safe in this country, and he 


416 THE gipsy’s warning. 

lias pledged his word to embark for the Continent within 
four days.” 

“ Thank Heaven ! I trust that I shall never see him 
again ! The consciousness that he was so near me, has 
weighed as an incubus upon my spirits since he has been 
here. Yet, as he was still living, Gerald, it is well that w§ 
learned it in time to prevent our union.” 

“ But it was a terrible blow, Ethel, and I feel as if I have 
grown ten years older within the last few days. Never 
again will I trust anything to chance. The presumption of 
Vernor’s death caused me to quash the law proceedings, 
which would have restored to you the control of your own 
fate. I blame myself for this, for if Vernor had been in a 
position to contest his claim to you, I cannot tell what the 
result might have been. Unless both parties are agreed, it 
is extremely difficult to obtain a divorce in this country.” 

She shuddered and became slightly pale. 

“Oh, Gerald, I would never have consented to receive 
him as my husband ! I would have buried myself in some 
obscure retreat, and left to him what he alone covets, the 
enjoyment of my fortune. You will now take steps to free 
me from him ? Since he withdraws his claims, there will 
be no difficulty in the way.” 

“ I have already written to Mr. Clyde, and requested him 
to take such steps as are necessary on your behalf to gain 
the divorce, which I am now certain will be readily granted. 
Do not be alarmed by imaginary terrors, my dear Ethel, for 
you are now perfectly safe from the machinations of Vernor. 
Oh ! if he had wrested you from me, I should have been 
the most miserable of men ! But, deep as my recent disap- 
pointment is, I am now reconciled to it. A few months of 
delay, and no obstacle will exist to our union.” 

“Those months will soon pass away, Gerald. You will 
spend as much of your time as possible at Cliffden, and 


THE ABDUCTION. 


417 


when the joyous springtime comes, we can celebrate our 
marriage. We shall not be the less happy for this delay.” 

“Will you not go with me to London? My mother and 
Mr. Digby have already spoken of taking you and Alice there 
to spend the remainder of the winter. Perhaps it may be 
best, but you can consult your own inclinations.” 

“ If I do, I shall certainly remain here,” she quickly 
replied. “ Our friends in London are aware that our mar- 
riage was to have taken place at Christmas, and the cause 
of its interruption must become the subject of gossip and 
remark. No, dear Gerald, I think it will be too severe 
a trial to me to appear in society in my present position, nor 
do I feel that it will be right for me to do so.” 

“ I felt this myself Ethel, and I referred the proposal to 
you, sure that your own instinctive sense of propriety would 
guide your decision. I will hasten to London to see that 
everything is in proper train to attain our wishes ; but I 
shall return as speedily as possible to the enjoyment of your 
dear society. With the guardianship of my mother and 
her husband, and the companionship of Alice, there can be 
no impropriety in your receiving me for as long a time as I 
may be able to spend with you.” 

“ That will be best,” she cheerfully replied. “ The win- 
ter promises to be unusually mild, and you can go to and 
fro without great inconvenience. I have many sources of 
interest here, for I have already become much attached to 
the place. I am afraid it has completely rivalled the Priory 
in my affections, although that was the home of my child- 
hood.” 

“ Then we will make Cliffden our home the greater part 
of every year after we are married. I, too, like the prospect 
of the sea, and the neighborhood seems to be a pleasant 
one.” 

“ Yes — I like those who have called since I came here 

26 


418 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


very much, and in our late troubles they have manifested 
little indiscreet curiosity. My tenants, too, seem already 
attached to me, and my presence on the estate will be very 
beneficial to them. Will Mr. Bertie return with you to 
London ? ” 

“ Of course — that is, if he can tear himself from the fas- 
cinations of Alice. If I am any judge of the symptoms, I 
should say that they are both ages gone in love, and Mr. 
Ligby will soon be called on to give up his daughter.” 

“ Then you approve of his addresses ?” 

“With all my heart. Bertie is a noble and true man; 
he will have a good fortune when his father dies, and he 
has now an allowance amply sufficient to enable him to 
marry, and live as befits his station. He has not much 
ambition, but Alice will infuse some of her own spirit into 
him, and urge him on in the race of life, till he wins the 
position his talents fit him to adorn.” 

“ Alice is a dear girl, and she will make one of the best 
of wives; but I am sorry to give her up, even to Mr. 
Bertie.” 

“ Oh, you will not be separated very far, for Bertie has 
purchased a small property near this, on which is a hand- 
some hunting lodge, to which additions can be made if 
Alice accepts him. To tell you the whole truth, Ethel, he 
is with her now, pouring his tale of love in her ear, and 
with the approbation of her father, too.” 

“ So — while I have been shut up in my own room, the 
destiny of Alice has, it seems, been settled. I shall be 
bridesmaid to her, in place of her acting in that capacity to 
me,” 

“ I do not think the marriage will take place immediately. 
Mr. Digby has stipulated that he shall keep his daughter 
till our fate is decided. Then, if the decision is favorable, 
Bertie and myself will both be made happy on the same 
day.” 


THE ABDUCTION. 


419 


She smiled brightly : 

“ So much the better, for I could scarcely have borne the 
loss of Alice just at this time.” 

A small time-piece that stood on the mantel chimed the 
hour, and Gerald arose, and said : 

“ It is later than I thought ; time has flown so swiftly 
with you, that I have neglected several things I must attend 
to before dinner.” 

“ I shall come to the table to-day for the first time since 
the evil phantom I evoked made his unwelcome appearance. 
I shall not be surprised if, in time to come, it were told that 
I actually called up the shade of the departed by the magic 
spell of a mistletoe bough.” 

Gerald laughed, raised her hand to his lips, and left the 
room. In a short time Alice came in, looking flushed and 
excited, and after standing over the fire a few moments, she 
abruptly said: 

“ I have something to say to you, Ethel, which must be 
told before you ring for your maid.” 

“ Suppose a little bird has already whispered it to me,” 
she laughingly replied. “ I can see from your face that you 
have not said ‘ no ’ to your true love.” 

“ So — Gerald has betrayed confidence ! I will repay him 
for this breach of trust. You know, then, that Edward Ber- 
tie has proposed to me, and ” 

She paused, and Ethel went on : 

“ And you have accepted him. Is it not so, Alice, dar- 
ling ? ” 

« Well— y-e-s — I believe I have been so foolish, though I 
once thought I would never accept a man who has not the 
energy to win his own way in life as Gerald has done. Mr. 
Bertie’s fortune is already made for him, and he has nothing 
to do but enjoy it, which he seems inclined to do in too quiet 
a manner to please me exactly. But somehow he has won 


420 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


upon me, until I had not the courage to refuse him when he 
told me how much he loves me.” 

“Eight — right, my dainty fire spirit. Mr. Bertie only 
wants such a wife as you will be to him, to rouse him to run 
the race his education and abilities fit h.im to win. He is so 
much attached to you, that your influence will make him all 
you can wish.” 

“ I don’t intend to rule my husband, Ethel. I should 
despise him if I could do so. Edward has spirit enough of 
his own, if it can only be aroused and directed aright.” 

“ I am aware of that, and you can give the impetus with- 
out betraying your agency even to him. So, Mrs. Edward 
Bertie elect, I offer you my hearty congratulations.” 

She kissed her friend tenderly, and Alice ran off to her 
own room to prepare for dinner. 

A happy group assembled around the table on that day. 
After the servants had withdrawn, Mr. Digby expressed his 
entire satisfaction with the choice his daughter had made. 
It was finally arranged that so soon as the divorce enabled 
Gerald to claim his bride, Alice, at the same time, should 
give her hand to her lover. 

Bertie was unwilling to leave his betrothed in the first 
flush of his newly won happiness, and Gerald, little loth, 
lingered three more happy days beneath the hospitable roof 
of Cliffden. On the fourth day the two young men reluc- 
tantly departed for London. 

The morning was bright and unusually warm for the sea- 
son ; there was little wind, and the smooth sea came rolling 
in soft murmurs toward the shore. Soon after the departure 
of the travellers, Ethel came into the sitting-room, equipped 
for her daily walk. She found Alice writing a letter for her 
father, who walked to and fro, dictating it to her. Mrs. 
Digby looked up from her sewing and asked : 

“In which direction will you walk this morning, Ethel?” 


THE ABDUCTION. 


421 


“ I am going to the beach, aunty. It seems an age since 
I have been there, and the day is so deliciously calm that it 
will be delightful to walk on it again.” 

“ Have you no fears as to your perfect safety there ? ” she 
anxiously inquired. u Alice cannot go with you immedi- 
ately, and you had better wait till her letter is finished.” 

“ I have gone alone so often and encountered no one, that 
I think I may venture to do so again ; hut if you wish it, I 
will wait for Alice. I shall prefer her companionship at any 
rate.” • 

Alice looked up and smiled : 

“ I am afraid your patience will he put to a severe test, for 
father dictates long letters, and I have but just begun my 
task.” 

" I will be brief this time, my daughter, for the day is too 
bright to be spent within doors,” said Mr. Digby, good 
humoredly. " Ethel shall not be long detained.” 

But he soon became oblivious of his promise, and sentence 
after sentence was added to the voluminous epistle to an old 
and valued friend. Ethel became impatient of the delay; she 
looked through the window at the brilliant sunshine, and 
presently said : 

“I will just stroll about the lawn till you can join me, 
Alice. I will not attempt to descend to the beach till I see 
you coming out to join me.” 

Alice nodded, and she went out alone. Enticing as the 
view below the cliffs was, where the sands were sheltered 
from the wind, Ethel continued to promenade through a walk 
that wound above them till she saw Alice issue from the 
house. Without pausing till she had time to join her, she 
gained the head of the rude stairway, and commenced the 
descent. 

Miss Digby was detained on the lawn a few moments by 
the gardener, who asked for directions concerning some win- 


422 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


ter roses which had been sent to her by the orders of Bertie ; 
time was thus given for Ethel to outstrip her so far as to 
throw her completely in the power of him who watched her 
approach, ready to pounce on her and bear her away to 
wretchedness. 

Vernor waited till his prey had gained the beach, and 
then, emerging from the spot on which he had concealed 
himself, rapidly approached her. As fate would have it, 
Ethel unfortunately turned in the direction from which the 
boat was approaching; the murmur of the sea deadened the 
sound of the footsteps that pursued her, and when the unex- 
pected appearance of a boat rowed rapidly toward the shore 
caused her to turn precipitately that she might retrace her 
steps she encountered the resolute face of Vernor, who bar- 
red her progress by extending his arms and enclosing her in 
them. 

“ Fairly trapped, my lady wife,” he triumphantly said. 
tl There is no one here to dispute my claim to you, and you 
had better go with me quietly. It will only be the worse 
for you if you do not.” 

u Vernor, for God’s sake unhand me ! ” she implored. 
“You can gain nothing by this unmanly violence. What 
becomes of your pledges ? You will not act so dishonorable 
a part as to tear me away from my home and friends.” 

“ You should not talk of broken pledges,” he rudely re- 
plied, “ for you have yourself broken the most sacred one a 
w r oman can make, you are my lawful wife, and if I am forced 
to go into exile, I choose to take you with me. Resistance 
will be useless, so yield to your fate without exasperating me 
by a show of resistance.” 

“ But I will not yield to it without a struggle. Only let 
me go, and I will give you half — nay, all I possess for my 
freedom.” 

“ It is all mine at any rate, Lady Clifton, but I value your 


IN THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


423 


own fair self as much as your lands and gold. Ethel, I 
swear that I love you. I never did till now, but since our 
last meeting I love you as I have loved no other woman.” 

With great offort Ethel had thus far preserved her self- 
command, but now it deserted her. There was an expres- 
sion of savage triumph in the face of Vernor, that filled her 
with dread. As he attempted to lift her in his arms, she ut- 
tered a piercing shriek which was heard by Alice as she 
was descending toward the beach. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

IN THE SECRET CHAMBER. 

The boat touched the strand, the men sprang on shore, 
and, in spite of her struggles, Vernor raised Ethel in his 
arms, dashed through the surf, and placed her in the stern, 
half paralyzed by fright. In another instant they were 
floating in deep water; and as Alice reached the edge of 
the shore, wringing her hands and calling on them to return, 
Vernor arose, exultingly waved his hat to her, and cried 
out : 

“ Tell Sir Gerald Methurn that Lady Clifton has gone 
with her husband, and I defy him to tear her from me again. 
Earewell, Miss Digby ! you will see your friend no more, or 
you will see her as my willing wife.” 

The sailors bent to their oars and rowed rapidly toward 
the projecting point which concealed the lugger, but as they 
drew near it a sudden roar of firearms, which startled them, 
was heard. The deep boom of a cannon followed, succeeded 
by rapid discharges of musketry, and with an imprecation 
Vernor exclaimed : 


424 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ The cutter is on our track. She has found out whither 
the lugger came, and has followed her. This is a cursed 
chance, and may ruin all my plans. Pull with a will, boys, 
till we get into the bight below this. There we shall be 
safe, and I will take care that the lady makes no noise.” 

Ethel wore a long scarf around her throat, and he wrap- 
ped it over her mouth and knotted it at the back of her head 
in such a manner as effectually to prevent her from scream- 
ing. She was passive in his hands, for in the deadly terror 
that fell on her she seemed to lose all power of resistance. 

The sailors, fearful of the fate that might await them if 
taken by the revenue cutter, rowed rapidly around the head- 
land and entered a narrow stream which flowed beyond it 
into the sea. Once in this, they knew they were safe, for 
the beetling crags nearly met overhead, and the water was 
too shallow to permit a successful pursuit. 

The noise of the conflict continued, and just as they were 
gaining their place of refuge, the smoke in which the com- 
batants were enveloped lifted, and they obtained a glimpse 
of two vessels engaged in deadly strife. When the boat 
was safely moored, one of the sailors scrambled up the pre- 
cipitous bank to a point from which he could see the fight. 

For the space of twenty minutes the smuggler was fierce- 
ly defended ; she then attempted to sheer off, but the reve- 
nue cutter intercepted her, and nothing was left but to sur- 
render to the superior force of the king’s vessel. The flag 
was struck, and the prize was grappled to the side of the 
conqueror, which sailed away in the direction of Lyme. 
The man came down to his companions with a rueful 
visage. 

“ It’s all up with us,” he said. “ The poor old craft is 
taken, and we must do the best we can for ourselves.” 

Vernor uttered a volley of curses, and presently said : 

“We can’t stay here. The country will be alarmed, and 


IN THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


425 


people will soon be on our track for doing what will be 
thought worse than smuggling. Get out of this place, and 
move cautiously down the coast. Ten miles below here 
there is a place where we can land in safety. I will give you 
ten pounds to take me there with this lady ; from the coast 
T can easily reach a place of security for both her and my- 
,elf.” 

Ten pounds was a large sum to these men, and one of 
them cheerfully answered : 

“Ay — ay, sir. We’ll help you out of the scrape, and 
you shall keep your wife. A dutiful one she must be to re- 
fuse to go with you at any rate.” 

Ethel struggled to speak, but Vernor placed his hand over 
her mouth and commanded her to be silent. 

When the boat reached the open sea they saw the cutter 
receding in the distance, and in a little while she was lost to 
view. There was little wind ; but what there was, was favor- 
able to their progress, and after a few hours of steady rowing 
they came in sight of a solitary house standing upon the 
beach. 

Fishing nets were spread upon the sand to dry, and Ver- 
nor, who knew the place well, desired the sailors to land him 
there. The head of the boat was turned toward the shore, 
and Ethel was lifted in Vernor’s arms and placed upon the 
strand. The sum agreed on was paid to the men, who de- 
clared their intention to seek the smuggler’s cove and, if 
possible, learn the fate of their late companions. 

After taking leave of them, Vernor led Ethel to the door 
of the cabin and placed her on a bench in front of it, while 
he went in and called aloud to the owner of the premises. 
But the fisherman was not at home, and after deliberating 
a moment he rejoined Ethel and said : 

“ I know of old that you are a good walker, and five miles 
will not fatigue you. Come with me to the Priory ; I know 


426 


THE GIPSY’S WAHNII' • 


every step of the way there, and I mean to take possession 
and install you as mistress in the halls of my father. Ger- 
ald shall no longer have everything his own way. I am 
freed from the pursuit of Sylvie Menard, for she has com- 
mitted suicide ; so make up your mind to come with me at 
once.” 

To the Priory ! There was some hope in that, for there 
she must find friends who would protect her from Vernor 
till she could be rescued. He removed the scarf from her 
mouth, and more gently said : 

“ I do not wish to treat you ill, Ethel ; but this was the 
last chance left me to regain you. As soon as I heard of 
Sylvie’s fate I was resolved that Gerald should not take you 
from me. Come, let us lose no time, for the sun is sinking, 
and we shall barely have time to gain the Priory before 
night comes on.” 

Ethel made no reply ; she felt that words would be use- 
less, but she endeavored to collect all her energies that she 
might be ready to avail herself of any chance of escape that 
offered itself. Vernor again entered the hut, looked around 
for some means of striking a light, and took possession of 
the lantern and tinder box used by tbe»fisherinan, for which 
he left a piece of money. When he came out with them 
Ethel asked : 

“What use will you have for those?” 

“ Oh, if we should be benighted in the woods they may 
he of use to us. I know the old fisherman well, and I have 
left something to pay for what I have taken. Will you take 
my arm ? You had better, for you will find the path rough 
in places.” 

She shrank away : 

“ I can go alone ; walk on, and I will follow you.” 

“Understand one thing, Ethel,” he said, with a tone of 
savage earnestness in his voice — " if you make an effort to 


IN THE SECRET CHAMBER. 


427 


get away from me, I shall no longer play the courteous 
gentleman to you. If I can win you by fair means I am 
willing to try them ; but if not, you may take the conse- 
quences.” 

A bitter retort sprang to the gentle lips of Ethel, but she 
repressed it and said : 

“ I will follow you, as I said before. Keep your threats 
for me till I have attempted to escape.” 

Leaving the beach he strode on through the tangled path- 
way that led into a narrow road which wound through the 
thick forest. It bore few evidences of travel, and seemed to 
have been rudely cut by the lonely fisherman to facilitate 
his access to some neighboring market. 

Vernor had often threaded its mazes in other days, and he 
knew that there was little chance of encountering any one 
in their progress. Like most of her countrywomen, Ethel 
was accustomed to take long walks nearly every day of her 
life, and although she followed her ruthless guide with a 
fainting heart and unwilling steps, she easily kept up with 
him, the latent hope sustaining her that once at the Priory 
she would find those who would be both able and willing to 
protect her. Why Vernor should venture to take her there 
she could not fathom : she supposed that it was his inten- 
tion to hold her in a species of honorable captivity while he 
endeavored to win back the affections he had lost. She felt 
this to be a vain hope on his part, and when once convinced 
of its futility, he would surely release her. 

Buoyed up by this forlorn hope, she walked on in silence, 
meeting no one on their route to whom she could have 
appealed for assistance, and she gladly saw the old familiar 
woodland appear in sight. The sun was setting, and his 
last rays glinted on the moss-covered walls of the venerable 
pile as Vernor unclosed a gate which led toward the rear 
of the most ancient portion of the building. Ethel then 
asked : 


428 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


“ What is your purpose in bringing me hither ? ” 

“ You will soon learn,” was the brief response ; and 
taking her arm firmly in his- own, he led the way to the 
decaying door which opened into the vaults. He stopped 
in front of it, and by a dextrous movement threw the scarf 
he had before used over her face, and in spite of her strug- 
gles and faint cries for help, secured it in such a manner as 
to prevent her from seeing whither he was about to take 
her. Then lifting her in his arms, he carried her through 
the opening and placed her on a pile of fallen stones, half 
senseless with fright and surprise. He imperiously said : 

“ Don’t attempt to take that bandage off, for if you do, I 
will not answer for myself. I may take your life as the 
punishment of your disobedience. Sit still, and do not 
utter a cry, I command you ; but if you should, there is no 
one to hear you in this lonely place.” 

He rapidly lighted his lantern, threw his arm around 
the unresisting form of Ethel, and finding that she had 
fainted, he muttered : 

“ So much the better ; I can now take her to her prison 
without her knowing anything about the way we came.” 

Her light weight was not much encumbrance, and he 
rapidly threaded his way toward the Secret Chamber. He 
gained it, sought and found the spring, and conveyed her to 
the upper room. It was exactly as it had been left years 
before ; and throwing aside the heavy hangings of the bed, 
Yernor placed his insensible burden upon it. 

Ethel again awoke to consciousness to find her captor 
standing over her, holding his lantern so that its light fell 
upon her pallid face, from which he had removed the scarf. 
She started up, exclaiming : 

“Where am I? Oh! Yernor, where have you brought 
me ? You can never be so cruel as to immure me in such a 
place as this ! ” 


IN THE SECRET CHAMBER, 


429 


“ It is my fixed purpose to shut you up here till you come 
to your senses. The existence of this room is unknown to 
any one but myself, and you may die in its darkness unless 
you consent to leave it as my obedient wife. You shall 
never go from it except under a solemn pledge to remain true 
to the vows you have plighted to me, to the last hour of 
your life.” 

A faint wail of anguish broke from her lips; she started 
up, threw herself before him, and imploringly said : 

“ Be human — be merciful, Vernor ! I have never injured 
you. I will give you what you may demand from my for- 
tune as the price of my freedom. Vernor, I shall die in 
this desolate place, and you will not be the better for what 
I possess.” 

“ 1 will see you die by inches sooner than I will permit 
you to give yourself to Gerald. I hate him, and I will 
thwart him at all hazards. He thought to trample on all 
my rights, but I have outwitted him. He shall never see 
you again except as my wife ; so the sooner you make up 
your mind to accept my terms the better it will be for you.” 

She arose, defiant and scornful : 

“ I will never accept them ! I will perish first ! ” 

“ Ho ! ho ! will you indeed ! ” he sneered. “ Let me tell 
you what you will have to bear : Bor three days I will fur- 
nish you with light ; after that, if you are still obstinate, I 
will see what darkness will accomplish toward bending your 
stubborn will. Your food shall be bread and water, and 
perhaps your dainty palate will soon find such nourishment 
unpalatable. The sooner the better for my purpose. No 
human being will ever be able to discover your prison, and 
I shall keep myself where Gerald cannot find me. Ha ! 
my pretty Lady Bird, I have snared you at last, and placed 
you in a cage so strong that there is no possibility of break- 
ing from it.” 


480 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


She listened to him in silent despair ; but even at that 
moment a ray of faith darted into her trusting soul, and 
she firmly said : 

“Man’s help may fail me, but God’s will not; He will 
send deliverance to me from your cruel abuse of power.” 

Vernor laughed mockingly: 

“ Say your prayers as much as you will — I have no objec- 
tion ; but if you ask to be delivered from this place without 
my agency, it is my belief that your Deity will be deaf to 
them. I must leave you to solitude and darkness now. I 
am as hungry as a wolf, and you must want food yourself. 
I will return with your allowance of bread and water as soon 
as possible, and then I will leave you a light.” 

Without further ceremony he stepped through the trap- 
door, closed and bolted it behind him, leaving Ethel stand- 
ing in the dense darkness of the subterranean chamber. 

Feeling faint and worn out by all she had gone through 
that day, she felt her way to the bed, and sat down upon it, 
trembling with fear. She tried to collect her thoughts — to 
form some plan of action in this terrible crisis of her life ; 
but the palpable darkness that seemed to fold around her as 
the mantle of oblivion, scared away the power of thought. 

Ethel was as little superstitious as most people were at 
that day, but she was young and sensitive. She had never 
before been left alone in darkness in her life, and her heart 
died within her as she thought that she was cut off from 
human sympathy ; left to the mercy of a man who so deeply 
resented her indifference that he might be capable of pun- 
ishing her even with death if she persisted in refusing to 
comply with his demands. 

Yernor was absent about three hours, during which time 
the poor captive endured all the agonies which fear and des- 
pair could inflict. When he returned he merely unclosed the 
trap, and thrust through it several wax caudles, oue of which 


IN THE SECRET CHAMBER. 481 

was in a tin candlestick and already lighted. He placed 
beside them a loaf of bread, a pitcher filled with water, and 
mockingly said : 

“ I leave you to do penance for your faithlessness to the 
vows you have taken. This is your home — this your fare as 
long as you live if you refuse obedience to me. Good night, 
my pretty one ! dream of me — think of me : love me, for that 
is your only chance of escape.” 

With a sinking heart Ethel heard the bolts shot that fast- 
ened her in that terrible place, and throwing herself upon 
her knees beside the bed, she sobbed out a prayer for mercy 
and deliverance : even amid her present desolation she felt 
the consoling assurance that it would be heard and respond- 
ed to, and she arose calmed and capable of thought. 

The superstitious dread which had overwhelmed her in the 
darkness now passed away, and she examined the prison in 
which she was immured only to discover how hopeless were 
the chances of escape through any effort of her own. 

She knew that Gerald would leave no means untried to 
discover her place of detention, but how was it possible for 
him to find her in this secluded dungeon, the very existence 
of which Yernor had assured her was known only to him- 
self? 

At length, exhausted by the fatigues and emotions of the 
day, she threw herself upon the bed, and fell into a feverish 
and broken slumber. 


432 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

DELIVERANCE. 

Alice, after witnessing the daring abduction of her friend, 
fled rapidly toward the house, and gave the alarm to the fam- 
ily. A messenger was dispatched in hot haste to bring Ger- 
ald back, and a group soon collected on the sands, but there 
was no sign of the boat in which Ethel had been conveyed 
away. 

The sounds of the conflict between the two vessels reached 
their ears, and Mr. Digby ordered a barge which was kept 
some distance above, to be brought down as soon as possible. 
By the time it arrived, and he was rowed far enough from 
the shore to obtain a view of the combatants, the fight was 
nearly over, and in a few more moments, the cutter moved 
slowly away, carrying her late antagonist with her as prize. 

He saw that it would be hopeless to attempt to overtake 
her, and he returned to the group upon the shore, with the 
consoling assurance, that if Vernor had taken refuge on the 
lugger, he was now a prisoner, and Ethel under the protec- 
tion of its captain, who was known to him as a humane and 
courteous man. 

With their fears a little allayed by this belief, Mrs. Digby 
and Alice returned to the house, and Mr. Digby only 
awaited the return of Gerald to set out with him for Lyme 
to inquire into Ethel’s fate. 

An hour had scarcely elapsed, when Gerald rushed in, 
pale with anguish ; the messenger had overtaken him a few 
miles from Cliffden, and he returned at a fearful rate of 
speed, to learn the slight ground of hope, that Vernor had 
taken his prize on board the captured lugger. 

fi I trust in God it may prove so,” he hoarsely said. 


DELIVERANCE. 


433 


u We must go to Lyme at once, and learn if she is there. 
If not, I will search the world over for her, and never rest till 
I have brought condign punishment to him who dared thus 
to outrage every principle of honor and justice.” 

The horses had already been ordered, and the two gentle- 
men set out without delay, leaving Bertie, who had also 
returned, to console Mrs. Digby and Alice. 

Gerald’s impatience soon outstripped the pace at which 
his older companion was accustomed to ride, and waving his 
hand to him, he set off at a furious gallop, as he said : 

“ Come on, and meet me at Lyme, but on such a quest as 
this, I must ride for my life.” 

With headlong speed, he dashed over hill and valley, and 
it was fortunate both for himself and the horse he rode, 
that the last was thorough-bred, and accustomed to follow 
the hounds at a breakneck pace. The noble animal sped 
away as if animated by the spirit of its rider, and in a few 
hours he had passed over the space which lay between Cliff- 
den and Lyme. 

When Gerald came in sight of the town, he slackened 
his pace, and looked anxiously toward the pier. The cutter 
was already there, and dismounting, he secured the bridle 
of his panting steed to a tree, and descended through a 
rocky ravine to the landing place. A group of people had 
collected, through which he made his eager way, and 
inquired for the captain of the vessel. A bluff, good-hu- 
mored looking man came forward, and Gerald took him 
aside and inquired if there was a lady on board ot the 
lugger when she was taken. The officer looked surprised, 
and said : 

“ I found only a few men, sir. I don’t think the skipper 
smuggles ladies as well as other contraband articles.” 

“A lady has been seized, and carried from her home by 

27 


434 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


force, and there is every reason to believe that the lugger 
was waiting to receive her on board. 

“ Can I see her captain ? ” 

“If he will receive you ; but he is wounded, and rather 
sulky.” 

After some delay, Gerald was admitted into the cabin 
where the wounded man lay. At first he obstinately re- 
fused to reply to his questions, but when he informed him 
who he was, and assured him that he would use his influ- 
ence to obtain a mitigation of his punishment if he would 
give the information he sought, Tompkins stated to him, 
that as soon as he had obeyed Yernor’s signal and made 
ready to sail, the cutter which had been lying in wait for 
him, had commenced the attack. Yernor was unable to get 
on board, and he had doubtless landed on the coast, and 
made his way into the interior of a country that was famil- 
iar to him from boyhood. 

This was all Gerald could learn, and when he stepped 
upon the pier again, he paused a moment, and addressed the 
crowd : 

“ Lady Clifton has been torn from her home by violence, 
and I offer a hundred pounds to any one who will discover 
her place of concealment, and communicate it to me. Be- 
tween Cliffden and this place her abductor must have turned, 
and I will give a similar reward for any information con- 
cerning Yernor Methurn, who has perpetrated this outrage. 
I go now to seek him myself, but I hope, my friends, that 
you will zealously aid me in the search.” 

A confused murmur arose in reply, but he did not pause 
to hear, or answer questions. Rapidly ascending the bank, 
he again mounted his faithful steed, and spurred back on the 
road on which he had come. He met Mr. Digby, and 
rapidly related his failure to trace Ethel, and they took sep- 
arate roads to arouse the country in pursuit of her captor. 


DELIVERANCE. 


435 


The news of what had occurred at Cliffden, soon spread 
through Lyme; it was repeated in Jessie liithgow’s shop, 
and thus reached Minchen. Her plans were rapidly formed, 
and as much of them communicated to Sylvie as she consid- 
ered necessary to their successful accomplishment. She was 
hourly expecting Melchoir, from whom she had heard ; his 
injured foot was well enough to enable him to travel, and 
his messenger had said he would be with her by sunset. 

The Gipsy went out, and hired a covered cart, which she 
ordered to wait her in a ravine near to town. As Melchoir 
was often in the habit of making mysterious journeys with 
the contraband articles in which he dealt, this did uot excite 
any surprise in the man from whom the vehicle was obtain- 
ed ; and when Melchoir came back with the news which had 
hastened his return, he found everything in readiness for a 
speedly departure. 

Sylvie, moving like one in a terrible dream, mechanically 
obeyed the directions given her. She was assured that she 
should see Vernor once more — should speak with him ; and 
the wild glare in her eyes revealed to the subtle observa- 
tion of the Gipsy the fierce fires that lay smouldering be- 
neath her apparent docility. 

When supper was over, the three silently evaded the ob- 
servation of their hostess, and issued from a rear entrance 
leading toward the open country. After a walk of half a 
mile, they gained the ravine in which the cart awaited them. 
Melchoir took the reins, and dismissed the man in charge 
of it with the assurance that he should return in a few 
days. 

The two women took their places, and they set out over 
the rugged road which led to the Priory. 

Minchen’s acuteness had assured her that, in such an ex- 
tremity, Vernor would make use of the secret chamber to 
conceal Ethel from every one till an opportunity offered to 


436 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


escape with her to the continent. He was ignorant of the 
vicinity of herself and her son, and would, therefore, feel 
secure of keeping his prisoner as long as w'as necessary to 
his plans without being interfered with by any one. 

She exchanged exulting whispers with her son ; but both 
were careful that they should not reach the ears of Sylvie, 
who lay supine in the bottom of the cart wrapped in shawls, 
which Melchoir had brought with him for that purpose. 

The night was clear, but not very cold ; the road was un- 
even, and in some places almost impassable, and the sun was 
rising when they reached the beach wood in which their en- 
campment had formely been erected. Accustomed to such 
exigencies, the Gipsy had brought with her a supply of food 
and the means of striking a light. 

A fire w r as soon kindled, over wdiich w-ine w ? as mulled for 
Sylvie, into which the old woman slily poured a few drops of 
transparent liquid from a vial she drew from her bosom. 

“This will fire her blood,” she muttered, “ aud make her 
more reckless than she naturally is. If she does not kill 
him, I will do it myself, for he shall never escape me now\” 

Sylvie ate but little of the food that w T as offered her, for 
she had no appetite; but she eagerly drank every drop of 
the wine prepared for her, and a few moments afterward im- 
patiently asked : 

“ What are we to do next? The traitor is not here, and 
you promised that I should find him at the end of my jour- 
ney.” 

“ So you shall. We are on his track, and a few moments 
more will bring you where he will be sure to come very soon, 
if we do not actually find him there.” 

“Let us go, then. Every moment that detains me from 
my vengeance only sharpens my desire to reach his false and 
perjured heart.” 

The two confederates exchanged significant glances, and 


DELIVERANCE. 


437 


Melchoir prepared to conceal the cart and horse in the reces- 
ses of a neighboring thicket. Then striking into a shelter- 
ed pathway which led toward the opening in the vaults, 
they skirted the lawn, and gained the place they sought 
without observation from the house. 

Melchoir carried a lantern already lighted and, after recon- 
noitreing a few moments to satisfy himself that Vernor was 
nowhere near, he entered the gloomy subterranean vaults, 
followed by the two women. In silence they threaded their 
way to the secret chamber ; with dilating eyes Sylvie saw 
the door spring back, and she asked, with some apprehen- 
sion : 

“ Why should you bring me here? Vernor would not 
voluntarily seek such a place as this.” 

“Not for himself, perhaps; but he has brought her of 
whom I told you hither, to conceal her from her friends till 
she consents to receive him as her husband.” 

Sylvie uttered a cry that sounded more like the voice of 
some wild animal than the tones of a human voice. She 
pantingly said : 

“My rival — my rival is there. Let me immolate her, 
and then Vernor and I may be happy.” 

She sprang through the opening with abound like that of 
an enraged tigress, and glared around the empty room with 
her hand upon the handle of her poniard. Minchen firmly 
grasped her arm, and, looking into her blazing eyes, sternly 
said : 

“ This young girl is innocent of wrong toward you, and I 
will not conduct you to her presence unless you pledge me 
your word that you will make no attempt to injure her. It 
is my purpose to remove her and restore her to her friends, 
leaving you in her place to avenge your injuries on him who 
will come here expecting to find her. You must promise me 
this, or we return as we came, and you may find Vernor as 
you can.” 


438 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Her look subdued Sylvie with its magnetic power, and 
she feebly said : 

“ Let me look on her, then. I will not attempt to strike 
at the heart which has desolated mine. To see Yernor once 
more I will promise anything — anything.” 

Whispering a few words to her son to guard Ethel from 
any sudden impulse of fury from the half-maddened woman 
beside her, Minchen closed the aperture and ascended the 
stairs, followed by the others. 

The noise of their approach did not arouse Ethel from 
the troubled slumber into which she bad fallen ; she had 
placed her candle upon a tall stand, and its rays fell upon 
her pale yet lovely face, around which lay the heavy rings 
of her brown hair. 

Minchen placed her finger upon her lip, and drew near 
the bed, followed by Sylvie, who glared upon that sweet face 
with an expression of dire hatred. She saw that it was 
beautiful : she believed that Yernor loved its possessor, and, 
in a paroxysm of jealous fury, she snatched the fatal dagger 
from her bosom, raised it aloft, and was about to strike her 
rival to the heart, when the watchful Melchoir sprang upon 
her and pinioned her arms to her side. She cried out : 

“Let me strike her — let me strike her — for she is my 
most deadly foe.” 

At the noise thus made Ethel sprang up in wild alarm, 
and for an instant she could not remember where she was, 
or what had happened to her ; but all came back to her in 
a moment, and she imagined those were the emissaries of 
Yernor come to tear her from her native land. She threw 
herself before Minchen and implored : 

u If you have a human heart remove me from this place ; 
take me from the power of a bad man, who has fatally 
entrapped me. He has sent you hither to do I know not 
what; but as you hope for mercy yourself, show it to me 
now.” 


DELIVERANCE. 


439 


The Gipsy raised her up, and gently said : 

u My son and I have followed you hither, Lady Clifton, 
to rescue and restore you to your friends. We are not the 
ageuts of Mr. Methurn, but the friends of his deserted wife, 
who now stands before you.” 

Ethel seized her hands and pressed them to her heart, 
while she uttered incoherent thanks for this assurance. 
After a few moments, she more calmly said : 

“ God has heard my prayers, and sent you to rescue me 
from the dreadful doom Yernor would have given me. Let 
us go — let us go before he returns, for he may come back at 
any moment.” 

She started forward as if to leave the chamber ; but 
Sylvie, who still panted and struggled in Melchoir’s strong 
grasp, cried out : 

“ Let me look on her — let mo see the fatal beauty that 
won his heart from me — from me, who gave him all I had 
to give, only to be trampled on and deserted for her sake.” 

Thus arrested, Ethel turned toward her; and although 
she shrank from the maniac glare in Sylvie’s eyes, she 
gently addressed the excited creature : 

“If Yernor has led you to believe that he loves me, he 
has spoken falsely ; he cares nothing for me beyond my 
power to advance his interests. He had pledged his word 
to me to seek you, and endeavor to make his peace with 
you ; he promised me that he would legalize your claim on 
him as soon as the power to do so is his. He violated his 
word, and tore me from my home to immure me here. Take 
my place, and when he returns let the affection you have 
once cherished for each other bring about a reconciliation 
between you. I only wish for your happiness together, for 
I love, and have long been betrothed to his cousin.” 

While she thus spoke, the fire faded from the eyes of 
Sylvie, and she softly said : 


440 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


(< Pass on, sweet vision of gentleness and purity ; I would 
not harm you now. You can release me, Melchoir ; she is 
safe from me since she refuses to return Yernor’s love.” 

The Gipsy relaxed his grasp, and Sylvie stood free. She 
returned the dagger to its sheath, and, exhausted by her 
own violence, threw herself upon the bed. Minchen spoke 
to Ethel. 

“ Go now with my son. He will conduct you to the 
inhabited part of the house, and place you under the care 
of the agent, who lives in it. A message will be sent at 
once to Cliffden, to inform the family of your safety.” 

Ethel gladly prepared to obey; she took the hand of 
Minchen in both her own, and said : 

“I shall see you again. This service shall he nobly 
rewarded, for to you I owe more than life.” 

“ If one good deed can balance many evil ones, Lady 
Clifton, I shall be happy. Go, now ; for the day wears on, 
and he you wot of may return.” 

Melchoir took up his lantern and descended the staircase, 
followed by the trembling Ethel, who scarcely yet believed 
in the reality of her release. He closed the lower door 
behind them, and walked rapidly toward the opening upon 
the park, not without some fear that he should encounter 
Yernor upon his path, and ready for a deadly encounter 
with him should he approach ; but they reached the door in 
safety, and with a glad sense of release from her terrible 
thraldom, Ethel beheld the light of day, and inhaled the 
invigorating morning air. 

Her spirits arose in a glad psean of thanks for her deliver- 
ance, though her lips uttered no audible sound. The two 
met with no one in their progress to the front entrance, and 
great was the astonishment of Mr. Weston, the agent for 
the estate, to see Lady Clifton, whom he knew well, enter 
the house, attended by her stalwart companion. Melchoir 
detained her near the door while he said, in a low voice : 


SYLVIE AND VERNOR FACE TO FACE. 441 


“You are now safe, Lady Clifton, and I must return to 
my mother. But I beg, as the reward of the service I have 
rendered you, that, until Sir Gerald Methurn comes, you 
will say nothing of the place from which you came. Its 
existence is a family secret that should be respected.” 

She readily gave the promise and Melchoir departed. 

Requesting a private interview with Mr. Weston, Ethel 
informed him that she had been treacherously taken from 
her home, and desired him to despatch a messenger to 
Cliffden as speedily as possible to inform the family of her 
safety and to request them to come to the Priory without 
delay. 

Her presence there, for reasons of vital importance, she 
wished concealed till her friends again surrounded her. 
Though in a state of extreme bewilderment as to what had 
really happened to her, the agent made every arrangement 
for her security ; she again took possession of her old apart- 
ment, and locking herself in, hastened to return thanks for 
her great deliverance. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

SYLVIE AND VERNOR FACE TO FACE. 

Vernor took refuge in the cabin of a poacher, who had 
been well known to him in other days. The man recog- 
nized him at once, and remembering former immunity ex- 
tended to him by the young heir of the Priory, consented to 
serve him to the best of his ability in his present fallen 
state. He represented himself as in danger of arrest for 
his premature return to England, and offered a reward to 
the peasant to obtain such articles for him as would enable 


442 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


him to conceal himself in the vaults beneath the Priory for 
a season, till an opportunity for escape was afforded. 

Through the agency of this man he obtained the articles 
he had conveyed to Ethel in her dreary prison, and then he 
set out to retrace his steps to the fisherman’s hut. He found 
Jenkins there, and after taking a few hours of repose, he 
despatched him to a small village on the coast below to make 
arrangements with the captain of any vessel that traded to 
it to take himself and Ethel from England, as soon as pos- 
sible ; for in spite of his threats to her, he fully intended to 
remove her from her prison as soon as he could find the 
means of escaping to France. 

Jenkins returned at a late hour of the day with the infor- 
mation that a schooner was lying before the village receiv- 
ing her cargo for Havre, and that she would sail at dawn on 
the following morning. For the sum the fisherman was 
authorized to offer him, the captain of the schooner agreed 
to sail up the coast a few miles, and lie off a point which 
was easily accessible from the Priory, till his passengers 
came on board. 

Everything thus arranged to his satisfaction, Yernor again 
set out for his old home. The sun was setting when he 
came in sight of the pile, and wondering if he should find 
Ethel in a more submissive mood, he hastily threaded his 
way toward the concealed door. He muttered : 

“ Ethel must be pretty well scared by this time, and she 
will consent to anything sooner than remain another twenty- 
four hours in that dark hole. It was a terrible ordeal for a 
young girl like her ; but it will bring her to her senses. I 
shall surely find her ready to supplicate for release on my 
own terms.” 

With this agreeable anticipation he moved rapidly for- 
ward, unconscious that every step he made was watched by 


SYLVIE AND VERNOR FACE TO FACE. 443 

malignant eyes. Melchoir awaited Vernor’s arrival con- 
cealed in an obscure angle of the wall, and he saw him walk 
to his doom with the triumphant certainty that his long- 
delayed vengeance would soon be completed. 

Vernor left the door of the lower chamber unclosed, and 
his evil fate watched him as he ascended the staircase and 
opened the trap door. A flood of light fell through it which 
dazzled the eyes of the new comer, and he looked upon the 
scene the room presented stupefied with amazement and 
dread. 

The same preparations had been made for his reception 
which once before greeted Sir Hugh. The hangings were 
drawn aside, and the stone sarcophagus, covered with a vel- 
vet pall on which the arms of the Methurns were embroi- 
dered, was displayed to view. The table that was placed in 
front of it bore several lights, and the worn books Vernor 
had once before seen, but which had so mysteriously disap- 
peared, where placed upon it. 

The curtains of the bed were closely drawn, and a dark- 
robed figure, whose features were concealed by a shrouding 
black veil, sat at the head of the sarcophagus. 

Vernor’s brain reeled, his feet seemed chained to the floor, 
and for a few seconds his voice refused to utter any articulate 
sound. Then he furiously cried : 

“ Who are you ? What does this mummery mean ? ” 

Minchen slowly arose, and spoke in low, meaning tones : 

“ I am the minister of fate. Your doom is spoken, and 
your crimes are about to be expiated.” 

Vernor recognized her voice, and sprang angrily toward 
her. 

« Is it you, wretch ! You have kept upon my track and 
baffled me in everything I have undertaken. What have 
you done with her I left here ? Where is my wife ? ” 


444 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


Minchen pointed to the bed and said : 

u She lies there in a slumber produced by my art. She 
will awake only at my touch, and I have thrown her into 
this trance that you and I may exchange a few words 
together before she is aroused. She will never awake again 
unless my power bids her do so, so beware how you attempt 
to injure me.” 

She stood in front of the bed, with her arms outstretched 
as if to shield it from his approach, and Yernor stopped, 
appalled. While travelling in Spain he had witnessed the 
effect of the mysterious power wielded b}*- a gipsy who had 
the reputation of being an enchanter, and he knew that 
among that strange people an artificial sleep could be pro- 
duced, so profound as to defy the efforts of any one but him 
who had produced it to arouse the slumberer. 

He recoiled from the weird form that confronted him, and 
sternly said : 

“ Speak ! what have you to say ? Name your terms for 
permitting me to remove my wife alive and well, and I 
promise to abide by them.” 

She laughed scornfully. 

“ Have you ever abided by a contract yet, guilty son of 
a perjured father? Look upon the name embroidered on 
yonder pall — did I not once promise you that when you 
gave the same fate to your wife, which was awarded to her 
who perished in this room, I would reveal to you all its 
mysteries ? Read for yourself, and learn them now.” 

Yernor turned at her command, and his eyes rested on 
the name of his mother. His face blanched — his hair arose 
upon his head, as he wildly said : 

“ My mother there ! Impossible ! Sir Hugh could not 
—could not be so cruel ! ” 

In a cold tone Minchen replied : 


SYLVIE AND VERNOR FACE TO FACE. 445 


“ His heart was as hard as the nether millstone. He 
could do anything, and you are his true son. Yes — your 
mother lies there ; months were passed by her in this dreary 
prison house, while your father made merry on her fortune.” 

“And you — you were the agent of this fiendish act ! that 
is why the secret of this chamber was made known to you. 
Why should you have aided Sir Hugh in consummating 
such wickedness ? ” 

“ Your mother was my rival. He pledged himself to 
marry me when she was removed, so I helped him. But he 
was false to his word, as he was false to every one that 
trusted him.” 

As if seeking some proof of the truth of her words, Ver- 
nor lifted one of the books. It was a Bible, and on the 
first leaf he saw the name of his mother traced by her own 
hand. Below it a few lines were written which he mechan- 
ically read : 

“ In my desolation, Oh Lord, I will come to Thee. 
Abandoned by all — persecuted by him I loved, imprisoned 
in this horrible den, I can only find courage to live on 
through communion with the Lord of life and light. 
Light! oh, for a gleam of the blessed sunshine before I die, 
for perish I soon must in this dreary place.” 

Vernor read them with a choking sensation in his throat, 
and again replacing the book, he said : 

“ We are now on equal terms ; for the crime which you 
aided to perpetrate, I will bring you to punishment at all 
hazards to myself, if you do not restore my bride to life and 
permit me to depart in safety with her.” 

“ Your threats do not move me,” she disdainfully replied ; 
“ but since it is my purpose to awake her, I will do so, if 


446 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


you promise to stand aside and not attempt to interrupt 
me.” 

“ I will remain on this spot till I see her arise,” he said ; 
and Minchen approached the bed, partially drew aside the 
curtains, and made several mysterious passes over the face 
and hands of the motionless Sylvie. 

Her large black eyes unclosed, consciousness slowly 
returned, and, still under the volition of the Gipsy, she 
arose, stood upon the floor and turned toward the half-para- 
lyzed Yernor. Sylvie had not yet quite emerged from the 
magnetic trance into which she had been thrown, but the 
first sound of his voice thoroughly aroused her. 

“Sylvie! Good Heavens! where did you come from? 
What demon has evoked your presence here ? ” 

With a heart-rending cry she rushed toward him, threw 
herself at his feet and implored : 

“ Oh, Yernor, is it you at last ! Take me back to your 
heart — let me be your slave — your willing slave, if you will 
only love me ! ” 

Recovering from his astonishment and alarmed at the 
apparition of Sylvie when he had expected to see Ethel, 
Yernor rudely spurned the prostrate woman, and furiously 
said : 

“ Get out of my way ! What have you and your accom- 
plice done with the only woman I will ever claim as my 
lawful wife ? I thought you were safe in the bottom of the 
sea, but here you are to torment and annoy me yet. I will 
/never reclaim you. Go back to your home and find your 
equal for your mate. I am of a pure and noble race, while 
your blood is mixed with that of the degraded negro.” 

No taunt could so deeply have stung Sylvie as this, for 
this consciousness had always been bitter to her pride. She 
sprang up with fury blazing in her eyes, there was the glit- 


SYLVIE AND VERNOR FACE TO FACE. 447 

ter of a poniard as she snatched it from its sheath, and with 
motions too rapid to be arrested, plunged it first into Ver- 
uor’s heart, then into her own. 

He staggered toward the bed, fell across its foot, and 
Minchen took the tottering form of Sylvie in her arms, and 
placed her head upon the pillows. She knew that both 
wounds must, in a few moments, prove mortal, for the poison 
with which the blade of the poniard was saturated was of 
the most deadly nature. 

She withdrew the blade from the stiffening hand of the 
dying woman, and composed her limbs, then lowering the 
curtain before the sarcophagus, she extinguished the light, 
and prepared to leave the place forever. 

Yernor never spoke after he was wounded. The blood 
that rushed in a stifling torrent to his mouth, soon suffo- 
cated him ; Sylvie uttered a few broken prayers for forgive- 
ness, which were heard by her who bent over her, but the 
motion of her lips soon ceased, and the gray shadows of 
death crept over her still beautiful face. 

Melchoir now entered the chamber, and even he seemed 
awed by the tragic scene before him. After a long pause 
he said : 

“He is gone, and we shall escape the penalty of his 
destruction. Come, mother ; the girl will soon be dead ; let 
us go at once/’ 

Minchen made a few passes over the face of the expiring 
Sylvie; her expression grew calm, her eyes closed, and the 
Gipsy said : 

“ She is young and fair to die thus, but she had better 
perish in her youth, than to live to become what I am 

DOW.” 

Leaving one of the wax candles burning upon the table, 
the mother and sou descended, fastened the trap door 


448 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


securely, and gained the corridor. Minchen sprung back 
the door, and wrenching off the spring, said : 

‘‘Never more shall the Secret Chamber be used by mortal 
man. Let the victims of jealous}' and revenge lie in their 
secluded sepulchre till the last trump shall sound.” 

The two returned without delay to Lyme. Melchoir 
informed his betrothed that it was necessary for him to leave 
England immediately, and demanded that she should ac- 
company him as his wife. But Jessie had repented of her 
engagement, and she positively refused to do so. A mes- 
sage was delivered to Menard, purporting to have been sent 
by Sylvie, requesting him to join her in Taunton, where she 
had found a clue to her false lover. The Frenchman set out 
without delay, and in the interval of his absence, the Gipsy 
and her son made arrangements to leave their late home, and 
join their own people abroad, Jessie steadily refused to 
accompany them, and they departed without her. 

Menard returned from his fruitless errand, and he remain- 
ed in England many months, vainly endeavoring to find 
some trace of the hapless Sylvie. The greater portion of 
the time was spent in Lyme, and the sympathy and kindness 
of Jessie Lithgow insensibly won him from his regret for 
his lost love. When he at length returned to Barbadoes, to 
claim his uncle’s estate as heir-at-law, he bore with him his 
tidy northern bride, and Jessie never had cause to regret the 
choice she had made. 


CONCLUSION. 


449 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

CONCLUSION. 

The messenger dispatched by Weston reached Cliffden a 
few hours after Gerald and Mr. Digby had returned home, 
worn out with fatigue and disappointment. 

The surprise and joy with which the news was hailed may 
be imagined. The carriage was ordered, and the two ladies, 
accompanied by Mr. Digby, set out on the journey to the 
Priory. Gerald and his friend Bertie were on their way as 
soon as fresh horses could be saddled, and long before the 
party was reunited Ethel had been clasped in her lover’s 
arms, and the whole story of her abduction related. 

He exclaimed, when she had finished : 

“ A secluded chamber in this house, Ethel ! We must 
seek and find its entrance, or Yernor may use it to some fur- 
ther evil purpose.” 

Every effort was made on the following day to do so ; but 
Ethel could give no idea of its situation, and after many 
fruitless attempts the search was given up as hopeless. The 
knowledge of the existence of the room was confined to a 
few persons, and as time rolled on, even the tradition of its 
existence passed from the memory of man, and for our day 
was reserved the accidental discovery of the sumptuously 
furnished chamber, with its fleshless skeletons as witnesses 
of the crime that had been committed. 

The Gipsy wrote from Spain to Gerald, claiming the re- 
ward of her services to Ethel, which were liberally compen- 
sated. She informed him that his cousin would trouble him 
no more, as he had perished by the hand of his jealous 
wife, though she declined to enter into particulars. Gerald, 
however, did not trust to this assurance. He prosecuted 
28 


450 


THE GIPSY’S WARNING. 


the divorce till it was obtained, and as had. been previously 
arranged, Ethel and Alice were married on the same day to 
their respective lovers. 

Sir Gerald Methurn arose to high station ; he eventually 
wore the Chancellor’s wig, which Ethel, in her childhood, 
had so much disparaged. He served his country honorably 
and faithfully, and received as his reward an Earldom, which 
had once been in the family of his wife ; as Earl of Cliffden, 
he was beloved and respected by all whom knew him. 

Bertie, under the influence of Alice, threw aside his indif- 
ference to distinction, and side by side with his friend, arose 
to fame and power ; and no happier or prouder wives were 
found in broad England than the Countess of Cliffden and 
Mrs. Edward Bertie. 


THE END. 



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Complete in eighteen large duodecimo volumes, hound in cloth , gilt back , price $1.75 
each ; or $3L.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


The Reigning Belle, 

.$1 

75 

The Soldiers’ Orphans, 


A Noble Woman, 


75 

Silent Struggles, 


75 

Palaces and Prisons, 

1 

75 

The Rejected Wife, 


75 

Married in Haste, 


75 

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1 

75 

Wives and Widows, 

1 75 

Mary Derwent, 


75 

Ruby Gray's Strategy, 


75 

Fashion and Famine, 

1 

75 

The Curse of Gold, 

1 

75 

The Old Homestead, 


75 

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75 

Tiie Heiress, 


75 

Doubly False, 


75 

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1 

75 


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Complete in thirty-five large duodecimo 
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The Maiden Widow, 1 75 

The Family Doom, 1 75 

Prince of Darkness, 1 75 

The Bride’s Fate, 1 75 

The Changed Brides, 1 75 

How He Won Her,..., 1 75 

Fair Play, 1 75 

Fallen Pride, .. 1 75 

The Christmas Guest, 1 75 

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The Fortune Seeker, 1 75 

Allworth Abbey 1 75 

The Fatal Marriage, 1 75 


Above are each in cloth, or each 


volumes, bound in cloth, gilt hack, price 


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Lady of the Isle 1 75 

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Love’s Labor Won, 1 75 

The Gipsy’s Prophecy, 1 75 

Haunted Homestead, 1 75 

Wife’s Victory, 1 75 

The Mother-in-Law, 1 75 

Retribution 1 75 

India; Pearl of Pearl River,.. 1 75 

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Discarded Daughter, 1 75 


is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


RIDDELL’S MODEL ARCHITECT. 

Riddell's Model Architect. With 22 large full page colored illus- 
trations, and 44 plates of ground plans, with plans, specifications, 
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1 ^* Abova Book3 will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price 
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Marcus Warland 1 75 

Linda ; or, the Young Pilot of the Leiie Creole, 1 

Robert Grahati; the Sequel to “ Linda ; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”... 1 
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


The Lost Daughter, 1 

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Helen and Arthur, 1 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


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The Crossed Path ; or Basil, ...$l 
Above are each in 12mo. cloth, 

ro\ 

or 

The Dead Secret. 12ino 

in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

.$1 75 

The Dead Secret, 8vo 

50 

Mad Monkton, 

.... 50 

Basil ; or, the Crossed Path, 

75 

Sights a-Foot, 

.... 50 

Hide and Seek, 

75 

The Stolen Mask, 

.... 25 

After Dark, 

75 

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.... 25 

The Queen’s Revenge, 

75 

Sister Rose, 

.... 25 


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Comstock’s Colored Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the Eng- 
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WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

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The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautphceus, 1 75 

The Macdermots of Ballycloran. By Anthony Trollope, 1 75 

Lost Sir Massingberd. By the anthor of “ Carlyon’s Year,” 1 75 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to “Linda,” 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

Family Pride. By author of “Pique,” “ Family Secrets,” etc 1 75 

Self-Sacrifice. By author of “ Margaret Maitland,” etc 1 75 

The Woman in Black. A Companion to the “Woman in White,” ... 1 75 

A Woman's Thoughts about Women. By Miss Mulocb, 1 75 

Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair, 1 75 

Rose Douglas. A Companion to “ Family Pride,” and “ Self Sacrifice,” 1 75 

False Pride; or, Two Ways to Matrimony. A Charming Book, 1 75 

Family Secrets. A Companion to “Family Pride,” and “Pique,”... 1 75 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 75 

My Son’s Wife. By author of “Caste,” “ Mr. Arle,” etc 1 75 

The Rich Husband. By author of “George Gcith,” 1 75 

Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emmeline Lott....... 1 75 

The Rector’s Wife; or, the Valley of a Hundred Fires, 1 75 

Woodburn Grange. A Novel. By William Howitt, I 75 

Country Quarters. By the Countess of Blessington, 1 75 

Out of the Depths. The Story of a “Woman’s Life,” 1 75 

The Coquette; or, the Life and Letters of Eliza Wharton, 1 75 

The Pride of Life. A Story of the Heart. By Lady Jane Scott,.... 1 75 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court............. 1 75 


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by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 5 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

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My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, $1 75 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00 ; or cloth,.. 1 75 

Camille; or, the Fate of a Coquette. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
The Man of the World. An Autobiography. By William North,... 1 75 
The Queen’s Favorite; or, The Price of a Crown. A Love Story,... 1 75 

Self Love: or, The Afternoon of Single and Married Life, 1 75 

The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author “ The Crossed Path,”... 1 75 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 

The Clyffards of Clyffe, by author of “ Lost Sir Massingberd,” 1 75 

Catnors. “The Man of the Second Empire.” By Octave Feuillet,.. 1 75 
Life, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illustrated,... 1 75 

The Crossed Path ; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, 1 75 

Indiana. A Love Story. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” 1 75 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
Cora Belmont; or, The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the Heart,. 1 75 
The Lover’s Trials; or Days before 1776. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison, 1 75 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 

The Beautiful Widow; or, Lodore. By Mrs. Percy B. Shellej', 1 75 

Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the “Rival Belles,”... 1 75 
The Matchmaker. A Story of High Life. By Beatrice Reynolds,.. 1 75 
The Brother’s Secret ; or, the Count Do Mara. By William Godwin, 1 75 
The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “ Margaret Maitland,” 1 75 
The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert. A Roman Story, 1 75 


The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Wliitty, 1 75 

The Rival Belles; or, Life in Washington. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 


The Devoted Bride. A Story of the Heart. By St. George Tucker, 1 75 
L<»ve and Duty. By Mrs. Ilubback, author of “ May and December,” 1 75 
Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 75 
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,.., 1 75 


The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75 

The Refugee. By Herman Melville, author of “ Omoo,” “ Typee,” 1 75 

The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late “Fanny Fern,” 1 75 

The Life and Lectures of Lola Montez, with her portrait, 1 75 

Wild Southern Scenes. By author of “Wild Western Scenes,” 1 75 

Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 1 75 
Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 75 

The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 75 

Jealousy; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” etc. 1 75 

The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey, 1 75 

Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 

Six Nights with the Washingtonians. By T. S. Arthur 1 75 

Lizzie Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur, 1 75 

Lady Maud ; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 75 

Wilfred Montressor ; or, High Life in New York. Illustrated 1 75 

The Old Stone Mansion. By C. J. Peterson, author “Kate Avlesford,” 1 75 
Kate Aylesford. By Chas. j. Peterson, author “ Old Stone Mansion,”. 1 75 

Lorriraer Littlegood, bv author “ Harry Coverdale’s Courtship,” 1 75 

The Earl’s Secret. A Love Story. By Miss Pardoe 1 75 

The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe. author of “The Earl’s Secret,” 1 75 


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WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volume , 
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Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of “ The Gambler’s Wife,” etc.$l 75 

The Conscript A Tale of War. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

Saratoga. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. A true Story of 1787,.. 1 75 

Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 1 75 

The Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of “ Days of Shoddy,” 1 75 
Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 

The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 

The Cavalier. By G. P. R. James, author of “Lord Montagu’s Page,” 1 75 

Rose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., 1 75 

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Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 2 00 

Washington and His Generals. By Georgo Lippard 2 00 

The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Paul Ardenheim; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
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Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

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Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 


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« < » » 

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Hans Breitmann’s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Volume One. Con- 
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John Jasper’s Secret. A Sequel to Charles Dickens’ “Mystery of 

Edwin Drood.” With 18 Illustrations. Bound in cloth, 2 00 

The Last Athenian. From the Swedish of Victor Rydberg. Highly 
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Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 

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The Ladies’ Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
Miss Leslie. Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back,... 1 75 
The Ladies’ Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 

113 illustrations. By Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back, 1 75 

The Ladies’ Work Table Book. With 27 illustrations. Cloth, gilt,. 1 50 
The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, paper $1.00, or cloth,... 1 50 
Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 50 
Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicy Book. By T. B. Witmer, cloth,... 1 50 
Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Ilentz, author of 


“ Linda,” etc. Full of Illustrations, and bound in cloth, 1 50 

Hollick’s Anatomy and Physiology of the Human Figure. Illustrated 
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other separate plates of the Human Skeleton, such as Arteries, 

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Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and his Squire Sancho Panza, 
complete in one large volume, paper cover, for $1.00, or in cloth,.. 1 75 
The Laws and Practice of the Game of Euchre. By a Professor. 

This is the book of the “ Laws of Euchre,” adopted and got up by 
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Treason at Home. A Novel. By Mrs. Greenough, cloth, $1 75 

Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in cloth, 1 75 
Moore’s Life of Hon. Schuyler Colfax, with a Portrait on steel, cloth, 1 50 

Whitefriars ; or, Tho Days of Charles the Second. Illustrated, 1 00 

Tan-go-ru-a. An Historical Drama, in Prose. By Mr. Moorhead,.... 1 00 

The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth, 1 50 

Trial of the Assassins for the Murder of Abraham Lincoln. Cloth,... 1 50 
Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 75 

Consuelo, and Countess of Rudolstadt. One volume, cloth, 2 00 

Monsieur Antoine. By George Sand. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 00 

Frank Fairleigh. By author of “ Lewis Arundel,” cloth, 1 75 

Lewis Arundel. By author of “ Frank Fairleigh,” cloth, 1 75 

Aurora Floyd. By Miss Braddon. One vol., paper 75 cents, cloth,... 1 00 
Christy and White’s Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 00 

The Life of Charles Dickens. By R. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, 2 00 

Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, fine binding, 5 00 

Life of Sir Walter Scott. By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait, 2 50 

The Shakspeare Novels. Complete in one large octavo volume, cloth, 4 00 
Miss Pardoe’s Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 
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Charles Dickens’ Works. People’s 12 mo. Edition. 21 vols., cloth, 32 00 
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Swamp Doctor’s Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 75 

Col. Thorpe’s Scenes in Arkansaw. With 16 Illustrations, 1 75 

The Big Bear’s Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations, 1 75 

High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 75 

Judge Haliburton’s Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 75 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, 1 75 

Piney Wood’s Tavern; or, Sam Slick in Texas. Illustrated, 1 75 

Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Humors of Falconbridge. By J. F. Kelley. With Illustrations, ... 1 75 
Modern Chivalry. By Judge Breckenridge. Two vols., each 1 75 


Neal’s Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 50 


CHARLES LEVER’S BEST WORKS. 


Charles O’Malley, 75 

Harry Lorrequer, 75 

Jack Hinton, 75 

Tom Burke of Ours, 75 

Knight of Gwynne, 75 


Arthur O’Leary, 75 

Con Cregan, 75 

Davenport Dunn, 75 

Horace Templeton, 75 

Kate O’Donoghue, 75 


Above are in paper cover, or a fine edition in cloth at $2.00 each. 

A Rent in a Cloud, 50 | St. Patrick’s Eve, 50 

Ten Thousand a Year, in one volume, paper cover, $1.50; or in cloth, 2 00 
The Diary of a Medical Student, by author “ Ten Thousand a Year,” 75 


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T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 9 


DUMAS’, REYNOLDS’, AND OTHER BOOKS IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of the following good boohs, and then are 
each issued in one large volume, bound in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

The Three Guardsmen ; or. The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dumas, $1 75 
Twenty Years After; or the * Second Series of Three Guardsmen,” ... 1 75 
Bragelonne; S»>n of Athos ; or “ Third Series of Three Guardsmen,” 1 75 
The Iron Mask; or the “ Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen.” .... 1 75 
Louise La Valliere; or the “Fifth Series and End of the Three 

Guardsmen Series,” 1 75 

The Memoirs of a Physician. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Queen’s Necklace; or “ Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75 
Six Years Later; or the “ Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Countess of Charny ; or “ Fourth Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Andree De Taverney ; or “ Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
The Chevalier; or the “Sixth Series and End of the Memoirs of a 


Physician Series,” 1 75 

The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas 1 75 

Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the “ Count o* Monte-Cristo,”., 1 75 


The Forty-Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 75 
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author “ Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 
The Mysteries of the Court of London. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Rose Foster; or the “Second Series of Mysteries of Court of London,” 1 75 
Caroline of Brunswick ; or the “ Third Series of the Court of London,” 1 75 
Venetia Trelawney; or “End of the Mysteries of the Court of London,” 1 75 


Lord Saxondalc; or the Court of Queen Victoria. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Count Christo val. Sequel to “ Lord Saxondale.” By Reynolds, 1 75 


Rosa Lambert; or Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. By Reynolds, 1 75 
Mary Price; or the Adventures of a Servant Maid. By Reynolds,... 1 75 
Eustace Quentin. Sequel to “ Mary Price.” By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Joseph Wilmot; or the Memoirs of a Man Servant. By Reynolds,... 1 75 


Banker’s Daughter. Sequel to “Joseph Wilmot.” By Reynolds, 1 75 

Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Rye-House Plot; or the Conspirator’s Daughter. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Necromancer ; or the Times of Henry the Eighth. By Reynolds, 1 75 


Within the Maze. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,”. 1 75 
Dene Hollow. Bv Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Within theMeze,” 1 75 
Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ The Channings,”.... 1 75 
George Canterbury’s Will. By Mrs. Wood, author “Oswald Cray,” 1 75 
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of u Dene Hollow,”... 1 75 


Roland Yorkc. A Sequel to “ The Channings.” By Mrs. Wood,' 1 75 

Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Bessy Rane,” 1 75 


Lord Oakburn’s Daughters ; or The Earl’s Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,... 1 75 
Verner’s Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “The Channings,” 1 75 
The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Roland Yorke,”.... 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Verncr’s Pride,”... 1 75 
Eister’s Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Castle’s Heir,”... 1 75 
St. Martin’s Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Dene Hollow,” 1 75 
Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,”.... 1 75 
Cyrilla; or the Mysterious Engagement. By author of “ Initials,” 1 75 

The Miser’s Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, 1 75 

Tho Mysteries of Florence. By Geo. Lippard, author “Quaker City,” 1 75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
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CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS, 

GREAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES.^ 


PEOPLE’S DUODECIMO EDITION. ILLUSTRATED. 

Reduced in price from $2.50 to $1.50 a volume. 

This edition is printed on fine paper, from large, clear type, leaded, that 
all can read, containing Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $1.50 

Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 1.50 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 1.50 

Great Expectations, Cloth, 1.50 

David Copperfield, Cloth, 1.50 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 1.50 

Bleak House, Cloth, 1.50 

A Tale of Two Cities,. ..Cloth, 1.50 


Little Dorrit, Cloth, $1.50 

Dombey and Son, Cloth, 1.50 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 

Sketches by “ Boz,” Cloth, 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 

Dickens’ New Stories, ..Cloth, 


1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

1.50 

2.00 


Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey’s Clock, Cloth, 

American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller, Cloth, 

Hunted Down ; and other Reprinted Pieces, Cloth, 

The Holly-Tree Inn; and other Stories, Cloth, 

The Life and Writings of Charles Dickens, Cloth, 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in twenty-one volumes, $32.00 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style,... 42.50 

11 “ Half calf, sprinkled edges, 53.00 

“ “ Half calf, marbled edges, 58.00 

" u Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, etc. 63.00 

GREEN MOROCCO CLOTH, DUODECIMO EDITION. 

This is the “ People’ 8 Duodecimo Edition” in a neio style of Binding, in 
Green Morocco Cloth, Bevelled Boards , Full Gilt descriptive hack, and 
Medallion Portrait on sides in gilt, in Twenty-one handy volumes, 12 mo., 
fine paper, large clear type, and Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. 
Price $40 a set, and each set put up in a neat and strong box. This is 
the handsomest and best edition ever jjublished for the price. 

ILLUSTRATED DUODECIMO EDITION. 

Reduced in price from $2.00 to $1.50 a volume. 

This edition is ])rinted on the finest paper, from large, clear type, leaded, 
that all can read, containing Six Hundred full page Illustrations, on 
tinted paper, from designs by Cruikshanlc, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, 
McLenan, and other artists. This is the only edition published that con- 
tains all the original illustrations, as selected by Mr. Charles Dickens. 
The following are each contained in two volumes. 

$3 00 
3.00 
3.00 
3.00 
3.00 
3.00 
3.00 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $3.00 


Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 

Tale of Two Cities, Cloth, 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 

David Copperfield, Cloth, 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 


3.00 

3.00 

3.00 

3.00 

3.00 

3.00 


Bleak House, Cloth, 

Sketches by “Boz,” Cloth, 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 

Little Dorrit, Cloth, 

Dombey and Son, Cloth, 


The following are each complete in one volume. 

Great Expectations $1.50 | Dickens’ New Stories, ...Cloth, $1.50 

Mystery of Edwin Drood; and Master Humphrey’s Clock,. ...Cloth, 1.50 

American Notes; and the Uncommercial Traveller,..- Cloth, 1.50 

Hunted Down: and other Reprinted Pieces, Cloth, 1.50 

The Holly-Tree Inn ; and other Stories, Cloth, 1.50 

The Life and Writings of Charles Dickens, Cloth, 2.00 

Price of a set, in thirty-five volumes, bound in cloth, $50.00 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 68.00 

“ “ Half calf, antique, or half calf, full gilt backs, etc. 100.00 

( 10 ) 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

GREAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES. 


ILLUSTRATED OCTAVO EDITION. 

Reduced in price from $2.50 to $1.75 a volume. 

This edition is printed from large type, double column, octavo page r each 
book being complete in one volume , the icliole containing near Six Hundred 
Illustrations, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, and other artists. 


1.75 

1.75 

1.75 

1.75 

1.75 


Our Mutual Friend, Cloth, $1.75 

Pickwick Papers, Cloth, 1.75 

Nicholas Nickleby, Cloth, 1.75 

Great Expectations, Cloth, 1.75 

Lamplighter’s Story,. ...Cloth, 1.75 

Oliver Twist, Cloth, 1.75 

Bleak House, Cloth, 1.75 

Little Dorrit, Cloth, 1.75 

Dombey and Son, Cloth, 1.75 

Sketches by “ Boz,” Cloth, 1.75 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in eighteen volumes, $31.50 

“ “ Full sheep. Library style, 40.00 

11 “ Half calf, sprinkled edges, 48.00 

** “ Half calf, marbled edges, 54.00 

u “ Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 60.00 


David Copperfield, Cloth, $1.75 

Barnaby Rudge, Cloth, 1.75 

Martin Chuzzlewit, Cloth, 

Old Curiosity Shop, Cloth, 

Christmas Stories, Cloth, 

Dickens’ New Stories, ...Cloth, 

A Tale of Two Cities,. ..Cloth, 
American Notes and 

Pic-Nic Papers, Cloth, 


1.75 


“ NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 

This is the cheapest bound edition of the works of Charles Dickens, pub- 
lished, all his writings being contained in seven large octavo volumes, 
with a portrait of Charles Dickens, and other illustrations. 


Price of a set, in Black cloth, in seven volumes, $20.00 

“ 11 Full sheep, Library style,.. 25.00 


Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 30.00 


CHEAP PAPER COVER EDITION. 

Each book being complete in one large octavo volume. 


Pickwick Papers, 35 

Nicholas Nickleby, 35 

Dombey and Son, 35 

David Copperfield, 25 

Martin Chuzzlewit, 35 

Old Curiosity Shop, 25 

Oliver Twist, 25 

American Notes, 25 

Great Expectations, 25 

Hard Times, 25 

A Tale of Two Cities, 25 

Somebody’s Luggage, 25 

Message from the Sea, 25 

Barnaby Rudge, 25 


Our Mutual Friend, 

Bleak House, 

Little Dorrit, 

Christmas Stories, 

The Haunted House, 

Uncommercial Traveller, 

A House to Let, 

Perils of English Prisoners,. 
Wreck of the Golden Mary,.. 

Tom Tiddler’s Ground, 

Joseph Grimaldi, 

The Pic-Nic Papers, 

Hunted Down, 

The Holly-Tree Inn, 

No Thoroughfare 


Sketches by “Boz,” 25 

Mystery of Edwin Drood. Charles Dickens’ last work, 
Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings and Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy, 
Mugby Junction and Dr. Marigold’s Prescriptions,... 


35 

35 

35 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

50 

50 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25 

25* 


THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DICKENS. 

THE LIFE OF CHARLES DICKENS. By Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie , 
containing a full history of his Life, his Uncollected Pieces, in Prose 
and Verse; Personal Recollections and Anecdotes; His Last Will in 
full ; and Letters from Mr. Dickens never before published. With 
a Portrait and Autograph of Charles Dickens. Price Two Dollars. 

(ii) 


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